American  Dramatists  Series 


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American  Dramatists  Series 

SIX 
ONE- ACT  PLAYS 

The   Hand   of   the   Prophet — Children 
of  Granada — The   Turtle  Dove — This 
Youth-Gentlemen    -        The    Striker   - 
Murdering  Selina 

MARGARET  SCOTT  OLIVER 


BOSTON:   RICHARD  G.  BADGER 

TORONTO:       THE    COPP   CLARK    CO.,    LIMITED 


Copyright,  1916,  by  Margaret  Scott  Oliver 


All  Rights  Reserved 


These  plays  in  their  printed  form  are  intended  for 
the  reading  public  only.  All  dramatic  rights  are 
fully  protected  by  copyright,  and  any  performance 
— professional  or  otherwise — may  be  given  only  with 
the  written  permission  of  the  author. 


MADE  IN  THE  UNITED  STATES  OF  AMERICA 

THE  GORHAM  PRESS,   BOSTON,  U.   S.  A. 


To 
L.  S.  O. 


939632 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

The  Hand  of  the  Prophet 1 1 

Children  of  Granada   27 

The  Turtle  Dove 53 

This  Youth-Gentlemen !   73 

The  Striker   81 

Murdering  Selina   103 

Notes  pertaining  to  the  plays 127 

Music  used  in  plays   128 


THE  HAND  OF  THE  PROPHET 
AN  ARABIAN  EPISODE 


CAST 

KODAMA,  A  Merchant  of  Riad. 

HALIMA,  His  Bride. 

SINDIBAD,  A  young  Sheykhj,  Cousin  to  Kodama. 

SLAVE,  To  Kodama. 

SLAVE,  To  Sindibad. 

A  SINGER. 

A  DANCING  GIRL. 

WEDDING  GUESTS,  SLAVES  AND  DESERT  MEN. 

Scene — A  room  in  the  home  of  Halima. 


The  Hand  of  the  Prophet 

From  between  the  parted  curtains  two  desert  men 
in  white  costumes,  with  red  sashes  and  turbans  ap 
pear.  They  wear  scimiters  in  their  sashes,  and  are 
smoking  very  long  cigarettes.  They  bow  to  one 
another,  and  walk  to  the  two  sides  of  the  stage, 
where  they  remain  until  first  curtain,  then  go  be 
hind.  This  is  repeated  before  and  after  each  part  of 
the  play. 

Scene — A  room  in  the  home  of  Halima.  Music 
and  laughter  are  heard,  and  as  the  curtain  is  drawn, 
a  slave  girl  is  seen  finishing  a  wild  dance.  As  she 
sinks  exhausted  to  the  floor  there  are  applause  and 
sounds  of  approval,  in  which  the  merchant  Kodama 
leads.  He  is  seated  beside  his  bride,  Halima,  on  a 
dais.  In  the  room  are  slaves,  attendants  and  mem 
bers  of  the  two  families.  The  wedding  celebration 
is  in  progress,  and  all  are  in  festal  mood  and  dress. 
Rose  petals  are  strewn  on  the  floor,  platters  heaped 
with  fruits  are  at  the  front  and  side  of  the  stage, 
and  incense  is  burning  in  two  braziers. 

KODAMA — Thy  slave  dances  with  the  grace  of  a 
startled  gazelle.  Command  her  again  before  night 
comes.  I  am  pleased  with  her! 

HALIMA — I  am  glad  she  is  fair  in  thine  eyes,  my 

husband.     She  knows  many  magic  dances  that  will 

delight  thee.     .     .     .     But  the  wedding  feast  has 

continued    four   days,    my   lord,    and    thy   kinsman 

II 


J2     THE  HAND  OF  THE  PROPHET 

from  the  desert  not  appeared. 

KODAMA — Four  days  more  shall  the  feasting  last. 
There  is  yet  time. 

HALIMA — I  am  eager  for  the  jewels,  and  cloths 
of  gold  he  was  to  bring.  Thou  didst  promise  my 
father — 

KODAMA — Enough,  enough!  Art  thou  a  child 
that  patience  is  not  in  thee?  Before  the  feast  has 
ended  he  will  come.  I  weary  of  these  murmurings. 

HALIMA — (Claps  hands.}     Music  for  my  lord. 

(Slave  sings.  As  the  song  ends  a  slave  appears 
before  Kodama.} 

SLAVE  TO  KODAMA — The  young  Sheykh  Sindibad 
is  here. 

(Sindibad  appears  L.  with  some  men  from  his  car 
avan,  and  a  young  slave,  who  is  carrying  three 
bundles  tied  in  silken  cloths.  He  walks  airily  to 
the  dais.} 

KODAMA — Sindibad ! 

(Sindibad  and  Kodama  embrace.  Halima,  with 
a  coquettish  gesture,  puts  her  veil  before  her  face.} 

SINDIBAD — Let  forgiveness  for  my  tardiness  be 
granted,  cousin,  when  thou  seest  what  I  have 
brought.  Many  treasures  have  I  found  thy  lady, 
before  whom  I  prostrate  myself. 

(Sindibad  kneels  and  kisses  Halima 's  hand  and 
then  his  own.  His  slave  boy  quickly  opens  the 
bundles,  and  the  contents  are  eagerly  examined.} 

KODAMA — I  had  thought  to  see  thee  sooner;  the 
wedding  is  four  days  old. 

SINDIBAD — I  had  thought  to  come  sooner,  but 
there  was  a  maiden.  .  .  .  Never  have  I  seen 
such  stars  as  were  her  eyes,  and  her  lips,  the  blood 


THE  HAND  OF  THE  PROPHET     13 

of  pomegranate. 

KODAMA — Thou  wast  ever  led  easily  by  starry 
eyes. 

H.\ i.i MA — (Holding  out  scarf.)  See,  it  is  a 
wondrous  cloth,  with  threads  of  gold  and  silver. 

SINDIBAD — Thy  loveliness  will  enhance  its  beau 
ties  a  thousand  times. 

HALIMA — My  loveliness  did  not  tempt  thee  to 
hasten. 

SINDIBAD — I  have  never  seen  thy  face,  and  there 
was  a  maiden.  .  .  . 

KODAMA — There  was  a  maiden.  Have  done  with 
thy  raving !  ( To  Halima. )  Let  thy  slave  dance ! 

HALIMA — Dance ! 

(As  the  slave  dances,  all  watch  eagerly  save  Sind- 
ibad,  who  gazes  at  Halima.) 

SINDIBAD — Thy  voice  is  soothing  as  the  sound  of 
water  in  the  heart  of  the  desert.  Let  me  see  thy 
face. 

HALIMA — Look  at  these  fabrics  rather. 

SINDIBAD — Nay,  but  an  instant,  while  they  watch 
the  dancer,  unveil,  and  let  me  see  thy  face. 

HALIMA — I  may  not. 

SINDIBAD — It  is  not  forbidden.  I  am  thy  hus 
band's  kinsman.  Let  me  see  thy  face! 

(Halima  drops  veil.  Sindibad  prostrates  him 
self.) 

SINDIBAD — I  am  thy  slave  forever,  oh  fairer  than 
the  day  at  dawn. 

HALIMA — Arise!  they  will  see  thee! 

SINDIBAD — And  thou  hast  married  the  merchant 
Kodama!  Awah!  Awah! 

HALIMA — Arise !    Arise ! 


H     THE  HAND  OF  THE  PROPHET 

KODAMA — Why  cryest  thou  awah?  This  is  not 
a  time  for  wailing.  Dost  lament  for  the  maiden  of 
the  desert? 

SINDIBAD — Her  image  has  changed  ...  as 
sand  upon  the  desert's  face. 

(CURTAIN} 

Scene — The  same.  Kodama  and  Halima  are  seat 
ed  on  the  dais  as  before.  Two  slave  girls  are  in  the 
room.  Kodama's  slave  enters  C.  and  stands  before 
Kodama. 

SLAVE  TO  KODAMA — The  merchant  from  Bagh 
dad  awaits.  Shall  I  bring  him  to  have  audience 
here? 

KODAMA — I  will  speak  with  him  in  the  myrtle 
court.  Keep  watch  over  my  wife  and  the  women. 
(Exit  C.) 

(Sindibad  enters  L.  as  a  slave  comes  from  R.  The 
slave  is  carrying-  coffee,  and  reaches  Halima  as  Sind 
ibad  approaches.) 

SINDIBAD — I   drink  to  thine  amber  eyes. 

HALIMA — Thou  must  not. 

SINDIBAD — Send  thy  women  away. 

HALIMA — I  dare  not. 

SINDIBAD — Send  thy  women  away !  I  have  words 
they  must  not  hear. 

HALIMA — (To  attendants.)     Go! 

(Kodama's  slave  stands  motionless.) 

SINDIBAD — (To  Slave.)  I  am  cousin  to  thy  mas 
ter.  Go  with  the  women. 

(Slave  goes  slowly  C.  from  the  room.  Halima 
has  risen  from  the  dais,  and  seated  herself  on  a 


THE  HAND  OF  THE  PROPHET      15 

rug  in  the  centre  of  the  room.  She  is  humming 
coquettishly  and  is  admiring  herself  in  a  mirror. 
Sindibad  watches  her  eagerly  for  an  instant. 

SINDIBAD — My  blood  has  changed  to  leaping 
flame. 

HALIMA — If  thou  comest  nearer  I  shall  call  my 
women  back. 

SINDIBAD — Unbind  thy  wondrous  hair.  It  is  a 
fountain  of  living  gold. 

HALIMA — Thou  must  not  sit  so  close. 

SINDIBAD — I  love  thee,  and  shall  stay  until  thou 
sayest,  "I  love  thee." 

HALIMA — (Stopping  her  song.)  I  am  thy  kins 
man's  wife. 

SINDIBAD — By  Allah!  Thou  art  no  man's  wife 
but  mine! 

HALIMA — I  am  but  a  dream.  Awake,  lest  the 
Prophet  smite  thee! 

SINDIBAD — Oh,  beautiful  dream,  I  am  mad  for 
thee.  To-night  thou  shalt  fly  with  me  into  the  des 
ert. 

(Kodama  enters  C.  unnoticed,  and  listens.) 

HALIMA — I  am  thy  kinsman's  wife.  My  father 
gave  me  to  him. 

SINDIBAD — The  fire  of  youth  has  gone  from  his 
blood.  He  is  old.  Thou  canst  not  love  him. 

KODAMA — Allah ! 

HALIMA — (Slowly.)     I  am  his  wife.     (Exit  R.) 

(Sindibad  starts  to  follow  her,  but  is  arrested  by 
the  sound  of  Kodama's  entrance. 

KODAMA — Alone  ? 

SINDIBAD — With  a  dream. 

KODAMA — The  beautiful  maiden  who  delayed  thy 


16     THE  HAND  OF  THE  PROPHET 

progress  hither? 

SINDIBAD — I  tell  thee  I  have  forgotten  her. 

KODAMA — Thy  heart  is  fickle  surely. 

SINDIBAD — I  have  seen  one  more  beautiful. 

KODAMA — The  dancing  slave? 

SINDIBAD — Yea     .     .     .     even  the  dancing  slave. 

KODAMA — Thou  shalt  have  her.  She  is  like  the 
little  moon  when  it  first  peeps  above  the  date  palms. 
Thou  shalt  have  her. 

SINDIBAD — Thy  wife  is  young.  ...  I  will 
not  have  the  dancing  slave. 

KODAMA — How  now! 

SINDIBAD — Thy  wife  is  young.  Her  skin  is  of 
pearl,  her  eyes  twin  amber  pools  where  men  may — 
oh  fool,  oh  blind,  thy  wife  is  young  and  beautiful. 
Canst  thou  not  see? 

KODAMA — It  is  written:  The  blind  man  avoids 
the  ditch  into  which  the  clear-sighted  falls. 

SINDIBAD — Thy  heart  is  a  dried  grape.  Thy  wife 
is — 

KODAMA — My  wife!  Art  thou  an  honest  Arab 
that  she  should  so  dwell  in  thy  thoughts?  Take  the 
dancing  slave,  and  begone. 

SINDIBAD — Thy  words  are  crystal  dewdrops 
quivering  on  a  leaf. 

KODAMA — Thou  art  young — tempt  me  not  too 
far. 

(Slave  enters  immediately  C.  with  a  tray  on 
which  is  wine.) 

SINDIBAD — By  the  beard  of  the  Prophet,  wine! 
The  Koran  forbids  it. 

KODAMA — It  shall  turn  to  milk  in  the  throat  of 
the  true  believer. 


THE  HAND  OF  THE  PROPHET      17 

SINDIBAD — Thou  hast  said  it. 

(Kodama  and  Sindibad  drink,  and  look  at  one 
another  searchingly.) 

KODAMA — Thy  black  angel  is  ever  at  thy  left  side 
in  the  city.  It  will  persuade  thee  into  mighty 
wrong.  Young  cousin,  it  is  wise  that  thou  shouldst 
return  to  thy  people.  Go  quickly,  lest  evil  come. 
I  will  give  thee  rich  presents  for  thy  father.  As  for 
thee,  choose  one  of  the  slave  girls — 

SINDIBAD — I  will  take  with  me  nothing — but  a 
dream.  (Exit  L.) 

KODAMA — Allah  send  him  swift  away.  .  .  . 
There  shall  be  no  returning. 

(CURTAIN) 

Scene — The  same.  A  slave  is  singing.  Kodama 
is  seated  on  the  dais,  while  Halima  comes  in  slowly 
and  gazes  anxiously  at  him.  It  is  the  next  day. 

HALIMA — Thy  brows  are  still  lowered.  In  what 
have  I  offended  thee,  my  husband? 

KODAMA — Amber  pools  where  men  may — what 
do  men  find  in  thine  eyes? 

HALIMA — I  know  not,  unless  thou  sayest. 

KODAMA — And  thy  skin  is  of  pearl,  is  it  not  so? 

HALIMA — Shall  I  send  away  the  women,  oh  my 
lord? 

KODAMA — I  am  not  loving  thee.  Let  the  women 
and  the  lights  remain. 

HALIMA — I  had  hoped — 

KODAMA — Thou  hadst  hoped !  Am  I  a  fledgling 
to  faint  under  thy  beauty? 

HALIMA — Thou  didst  marry  me. 


1 8     THE  HAND  OF  THE  PROPHET 

KODAMA — It  was  a  wise  bargain  with  thy  father, 
whose  hands  will  help  carry  my  trade  into  the  des 
ert,  and  beyond. 

HALIMA — I  thought  thy  kinsman  Sindibad  would 
do  that.  He  is  a  son  of  the  desert. 

KODAMA — I  like  not  my  kinsman.  He  is  a  fool 
and  a  magpie. 

HALIMA — He  is  young  and  handsome,  full  of 
fire  and  poetry. 

KODAMA — Full  of  deceit  and  treachery,  with 
honeyed  words  that  mean  nothing.  But  yesterday 
he  raved  of  a  maiden  whom  he  met  in  the  desert. 
To-day  he  is  mad  for  thy — 

HALIMA — For  my — ? 

KODAMA — For  thy  dancing  slave.  To-morrow 
he  will  go  to  the  desert  with  another  nightingale 
piping  at  his  elbow.  He  knows  not  constancy,  but 
flies  from  one  deluded  maiden  to  another. 

HALIMA — Surely  thou  wrongest  him. 

KODAMA — I  wrong  him  not.  We  shall  not  talk 
of  him.  .  .  .  Thy  shimmering  hair  has  hidden 
thine  ear.  Let  me  put  it  back. 

HALIMA — Oh,  Kodama,  thou  hast  never  praised 
my  hair  before.  See,  it  is  a  fountain  of  living  gold ! 

KODAMA — (Quickly.}     Who  told  thee  that? 

HALIMA — My     .     .     .     women. 

KODAMA — What  other  pretty  things  do  they  say 
to  swell  thy  vanity? 

HALIMA — They  say — thou  lovest  me  not. 

KODAMA — As  thou  art  a  woman,  and  beautiful, 
I  love  thee  ...  no  more  ...  no  less. 
Thou  art  a  woman.  I  have  said  it! 

(Kodama    puts    Halima    from    him,    and    leaves 


THE  HAND  OF  THE  PROPHET      19 

abruptly  R.  Halima  for  an  instant  puts  out  her 
hands  pleadingly  to  Kodama's  retreating  back,  and 
then  with  a  hopeless  little  gesture  drops  her  head  on 
the  cushions.  One  of  the  women  picks  up  her  lute, 
and  sings  a  plaintive  song.  The  young  slave  boy  of 
Sindibad's  appears  L.) 

SLAVE  BOY — The  young  Sheykh  Sindibad  leaves 
for  his  father's  tent  in  the  desert,  and  would  say 
farewell  to  his  kinsman's  lady. 

HALIMA — Let  him  come.  (To  attendants.)  I 
would  be  alone!  (Exeunt  attendants  C.) 

(Sindibad  enters  L.  and  looks  at  Halima' s  des 
pairing  figure  for  a  moment.) 

SINDIBAD — To-night  I  go  to  my  people. 

HALIMA — Allah,  the  compassionate,  the  merci 
ful,  guide  thy  footsteps. 

SINDIBAD— 7-And  thou,  white  rose,  wouldst  thou 
be  free? 

HALIMA — Free ! 

SINDIBAD — A  strong  mehari  is  below,  and  my 
men  are  waiting. 

HALIMA — I  am  afraid. 

SINDIBAD — By  the  hand  of  the  Prophet,  it  was 
written  thou  shouldst  love  me,  and  I  thee. 

HALIMA — His  wrath — 

SINDIBAD — Thou  art  not  bound  to  him  by  any 
law. 

HALIMA — He  loves  me  not,  and  yet — 

SINDIBAD — Come  to  the  golden  desert,  and  thou 
shalt  learn  the  many  ways  of  love. 

HALIMA — He  took  me  to  seal  a  bargain  with  my 
father.  But  thou,  thou  wilt  soon  tire  of  me.  He 
said  thou  lovest  any  woman. 


20     THE  HAND  OF  THE  PROPHET 

SINDIBAD — I  will  not  fail  thee,  until  soul  and 
body  part. 

HALIMA — Oh,  hungry  ears,  be  not  so  eager  for 
these  words  of  love. 

SINDIBAD — Thy  body  is  wonderful  as  a  hidden 
river  whereon  the  moonlight  dances.  Rest  thou 
upon  my  beating  heart,  oh  beloved. 

HALIMA — All  of  heaven  is  here. 

SINDIBAD — I  drink  thy  lips  like  wine.  (Kisses 
her.  Exeunt.  Stage  is  empty  for  a  very  short 
time. ) 

(The  Slave  and  Kodama  enter  hurriedly  R.) 

SLAVE  TO  KODAMA — This  way,  my  master,  they 
went  but  a  moment  since,  and  thou  canst  get  them 
ere  they  reach  the  court. 

KODAMA — (Drawing  scimiter.)  Stay!  (Exit 
C.) 

(The  slave  remains  motionless  on  the  stage,  and 
there  is  silence.  Then  Kodama  returns  wiping  his 
blade.  He  spits  on  the  floor.) 

KODAMA — Allah ! 

(Halima  enters  C.     She  rushes  to  Kodama.) 

HALIMA — Thou  hast  killed  him! 

KODAMA — The  babbling  fool,  to  think  he  could 
steal  thee  from  me. 

HALIMA — (Whispering.)     Thou  hast  killed  him. 

KODAMA — Go  to  thy  women. 

HALIMA — Bring  him  back. 

KODAMA — Peace. 

HALIMA — Bring  him  back. 

KODAMA — Peace,  peace,  I  say. 

HALIMA — Oh,  Sindibad,  my  love. 

KODAMA — Love ! 


THE  HAND  OF  THE  PROPHET     21 

HALIMA — Thou  snarling  camel,  hast  thou  lost 
thine  ears?  Age  has  dried  thy  bones,  and  turned 
thy  blood  to  dust.  I'll  none  of  thee. 

KODAMA — (Claps  hands.  Slave  appears  L.) 
Bring  him  here.  Go! 

(Slave  carries  in  the  body  of  Sindibad,  and  puts 
it  on  the  dais.  Halima  sinks  beside  it  with  a  little 
cry  of  distress.) 

HALIMA — He  was  Allah's  shadow  upon  the 
earth.  Thou  canst  buy  a  woman,  but  not  hold  her. 
Let  me  go  with  him. 

KODAMA — Oh,  amber  pools  where  men  may  find 
oblivion,  close  ....  close  (chokes  her.) 

(The  body  falls  beside  Sindibad' s.) 

KODAMA — Allah  has  left  no  calamity  more  hurt 
ful  to  man  than  woman.  It  was  written  in  the 
stars.  (To  Slave.)  Bring  the  women.  Let  music 
be  played,  and  let  there  be  dancing. 

(Slaves  and  attendants  enter,  and  there  is  music.) 

KODAMA — (To  the  body  of  Sindibad.)  Dost 
hear  the  music  for  thy  wedding  feast?  Thou  art 
dead,  honey  babbler,  and  gone  to  the  desert  of  for 
gotten  desires.  Thou  art  dead ! 

(Slave  dances.  As  dance  ends,  Kodama's  slave 
kneels  before  him.) 

SLAVE — Master,  thou  hast  killed  a  true  believer. 

KODAMA — I  have  killed — 

SLAVE — In  mistake,  oh  master. 

KODAMA — And  art  thou  a  true  believer? 

SLAVE — Even  as  thou  sayest. 

KODAMA — Then  I  make  thee  free  that  the  blood- 
wit  be  paid!  Go  forth,  thou  art  free!  (Suddenly 
and  hoarsely  to  the  musicians.)  Break  your  lutes! 


22     THE  HAND  OF  THE  PROPHET 

(Music  stops.)     Let  there  be  lamentations!     This 
is  a  house  of  sorrow! 

(CURTAIN) 


CHILDREN  OF  GRANADA 
A  SPANISH  PLAY 


SPANIARDS 

GENERAL  DON  FERNANDO  DE  LERMA. 
LIEUT.  DON  RODRIGUEZ — His  Son. 
PEDRO — An  Officer. 

LAGRIMAS — The  Daughter  of  a  Bull-Fighter. 
FELICIANA — A  Dancer. 

MOORS 

HAFIZ  BEN  ALL 

HASSAN  AKBAR. 

CAFOUR — A  Wife  of  Hafiz  ben  AIL 

TARIK,  Son  of  Hafiz  and  Cafour. 

SPANISH  SOLDIERS  AND  MOORISH  PRISONERS. 

Time — Spain  during  the  reign  of  Philip  III,  about 

1609. 
Place — Courtyard  of  Alhambra  in   Granada. 


Children  of  Granada 

Scene — The  back-drop  shows  mountains  in  the 
distance.  Along  the  entire  back  of  stage  is  a  stone 
bench  against  a  low  wall  which  overlooks  the  Valley 
of  the  Darro  River.  The  tops  of  one  or  two  trees 
show  above  it.  At  right  back  is  a  little  turret,  with 
entrance  toward  the  audience.  Entrance  at  front 
right,  through  Moorish  gateway.  Entrance  at  left 
front  from  garden. 

Don  Rodriguez  and  Lagrimas  are  discovered  sit 
ting  together  on  the  bench.  The  soft  tinkle  of 
guitars  is  heard.  Don  Rodriguez  is  looking  straight 
out  towards  the  audience  with  his  hands  clasped. 
Lagrimas  is  gazing  over  the  wall. 

RODRIGUEZ — I  tell  thee  it  would  be  the  easiest 
thing  in  the  world  to  capture  Hafiz  the  Moor.  I 
could  creep  through  the  Darro,  for  the  thirsty  sun 
swallows  the  little  river  with  one  gulp  in  summer, 
and  it  is  dry  as  the  road  to  Cordova.  No  one  would 
see  me  until  I  reached  the  Mosque,  where  Hafiz  will 
be  at  his  infidel  prayers.  Hafiz  the  Moor!  The 
greatest  enemy  to  our  King  in  all  Spain,  and  I, 
I  have  found  a  way  to  capture  him  with  a  handful 
of  men.  I  think  my  father  will  call  me  a  soldier 
then,  and  thou  wilt  smile  on  my  love,  Lagrimas.  No 
maiden  can  resist  a  victorious  soldier. 

LAGRIMAS — Look  at  .the  swallows  building  in 
the  little  turret.  It  must  be  nesting  time. 

RODRIGUEZ — Lagrimas ! 
27 


28  CHILDREN  OF  GRANADA 

LAGRIMAS — Don  Rodriguez ! 

RODRIGUEZ — I  have  been  telling  thee  my  plans 
to  take  Hafiz  the  Moor,  and  of  my  love  for  thee, 
and  thou  answerest  with  some  nonsense  about  swal 
lows,  and  nesting  time. 

LAGRIMAS — I  am  very  wise  at  times. 

RODRIGUEZ — Surely  it's  not  unwise  to  hear  of 
my  love  and  bravery? 

LAGRIMAS — I  have  heard  thee  speak  much  of 
both,  Don  Rodriguez. 

RODRIGUEZ — I  am  a  fool  to  think  I  could  ever 
win  thee.  Thou  dost  make  sport  of  my  affection,  one 
minute  cold,  one  minute  hot.  I  never  know  how 
to  take  thee. 

LAGRIMAS — Do  not  take  me  at  all,  Don  Rod 
riguez. 

( They  sit  silently  a  moment,  Rodriguez  in  des 
pair.  At  last  Lagrimas  peeps  provokingly  at  him.} 

LAGRIMAS — There  is  a  caballero  wooing  his  in 
amorata.  Listen  to  the  guitar.  Music  is  very 
soothing  in  the  cool  of  the  evening.  How  rich  and 
soft  his  voice  is!  I  would  find  it  hard  to  flout  such 
a  seductive  lover.  Dost  thou  not  hear  him? 

RODRIGUEZ — No! 

LAGRIMAS — I  can  hear  him  plainly.  What  has 
stopped  thine  ears? 

RODRIGUEZ — The  beating  of  my  heart. 

LAGRIMAS — A  soldier's  heart  should  not  beat  so 
loudly. 

RODRIGUEZ — Mine  does. 

LAGRIMAS — Poor  soldier! 

RODRIGUEZ — I'll  not  have  thy  scorn  .  .  . 
When  I'm  killed  by  the  Moriscoes,  thou  mayest 


CHILDREN  OF  GRANADA  29 

repent  thy  coldness. 

LAGRIMAS — Little  soldier,  thou  wast  to  conquer 
the  Moriscoes;  and  capture  Hafiz,  the  enemy  of 
King  Philip. 

RODRIGUEZ — I  shall  conquer  nothing.  Deeds  of 
valor  are  possible  only  because  a  lady  smiled. 

LAGRIMAS — I  smile  always  when  with  thee. 

RODRIGUEZ — Have  thy  jest.  Broken  lives  mean 
nothing  to  a  coquette. 

LAGRIMAS — Timid    lovers   mean    less     .     .     . 
Why  rail  against  fate? 

(Pedro  and  Feliciana  enter  with  a  rush.) 

FELICIANA — Dance!  Dance!  I  will  dance 
whenever  I  please. 

PEDRO — And  have  the  commonest  fellow  in  the 
ranks  praise  thine  alluring  ankles  and  twinkling 
feet.  Hast  thou  no  modesty? 

FELICIANA — If  my  ankles  were  thick,  and  my 
feet  clumsy,  I'd  be  modest  as  a  nun,  and  keep  them 
chastely  for  thine  eyes  alone.  Why  should  I  hide 
them  when  they  are  beautiful? 

PEDRO — They  tempt  men  to  foolishness. 

FELICIANA — Foolishness  is  wonderful. 

PEDRO — Well,  they  are  not  so  bewitching  as  I 
have  said.  I  have  praised  them  in  moments  of  weak 
ness,  but  they  are  only  so-so. 

FELICIANA — Don  Rodriguez,  I  appeal  to  thee! 
Thou  givest  many  an  admiring  glance  when  I  dance 
the  zambra  in  the  orange  grove.  Thine  eyes  betray 
thee,  now  say,  are  they  but  so-so?  (Raises  skirt.) 

RODRIGUEZ — I — well — that  is — 

LAGRIMAS — Why  dost  thou  not  answer?  Felic- 
iana's  feet  are  small,  but  not  invisible.  Look  at 


30  CHILDREN  OF  GRANADA 

them,  and  pronounce  judgment. 

RODRIGUEZ — I  grieve  for  thee,  Pedro.  They 
will  often  dance  on  thy  heart,  I  fear,  but  in  all 
truth  and  honesty,  they  are  not  so-so. 

FELICIANA — Brave  Don  Rodriguez!  I  shall 
dance  for  thee  to  pay  for  thy  gallant  approval. 

(Feliciana  dances  with  castanets,  while  the  oth 
ers  keep  time  with  hands.  Before  the  dance  has 
finished,  General  Don  Fernando  comes  upon  the 
scene,  and  surveys  it  with  much  displeasure.} 

GENERAL — Is  it  in  this  fashion  the  soldiers  of 
Philip  protect  their  country? 

PEDRO — One  must  relax  sometime,  General. 

FELICIANA — Caramba!  Am  I  a  relaxation?  I 
thought  thou  didst  take  love  more  seriously,  Lieut. 
Pedro.  Seek  new  amusements  for  thine  idle  hours. 

(Exit  Feliciana — Pedro   runs   after   her.) 

PEDRO — Feliciana,  I  swear  by  the  stars — 

(Exit.    Pause.) 

GENERAL — Does  my  son  court  shame  behind  my 
back? 

RODRIGUEZ — I  love  Lagrimas,  I  have  asked  her 
to  be  my  wife. 

GENERAL — Thou   hast   asked   her? 

RODRIGUEZ — I  offer  my  hand,  where  I  have  giv 
en  my  heart. 

GENERAL — Dost  thou  not  owe  me  the  courtesy 
of  knowledge?  Am  I  to  stumble  on  thy  secret  like 
any  outsider? 

RODRIGUEZ — I  would   have  told   thee  to-day. 

GENERAL — To-day  is  too  late  Thou  hast  not 
my  permission  to  marry. 

RODRIGUEZ — I   am  old   enough   to  know  when, 


CHILDREN  OF  GRANADA  31 

and   whom   I   shall   marry 

GENERAL — And  if  the  door  of  my  home  is  closed 
to  thee? 

RODRIGUEZ — If  Lagrimas  will  marry  me,  I  shall 
make  a  home  of  my  own. 

GENERAL — Fool!  If  she  will  marry  thee?  Dost 
think  she  will  allow  thee  to  slip  through  her  fingers? 

LAGRIMAS — I  shall  marry  no  son  of  thine,  Gen 
eral  Don  Fernando  de  Lerma. 

(Exit  Lagrimas.) 

RODRIGUEZ — Lagrimas ! 

GENERAL — The  daughter  of  a  bull-fighter! 

RODRIGUEZ — My  grandfather  fought  the  bulls. 

GENERAL — Thy  grandfather!  The  most  gallant 
gentleman  of  the  Spanish  court,  who  rode  into  the 
arena  on  his  own  steed,  and  defied  the  bull  in  the 
name  of  his  lady  love.  To-day  her  father  prods  a 
sorry  hack  to  its  death,  and  fights  .  .  .  for 
a  handful  of  silver! 

RODRIGUEZ — She  is  poor,  I  grant,  but  no  word 
of  scandal  has  ever  tarnished  her  name  Why  dost 
thou  oppose  ? 

GENERAL — Canst  thou  blot  out  thy  life,  and  the 
traditions  of  thy  race?  Wilt  thou  not  sicken  of  this 
girl's  people? 

RODRIGUEZ — I  marry  Lagrimas,  not  her  family. 

GENERAL — Oh,  blindness  of  youth! 

RODRIGUEZ — I  have  heard  thee  say  Spain  must 
look  to  the  people  for  her  salvation. 

GENERAL — Spain  must  look  to  her  soldiers.  Infi 
dels  are  in  the  realm.  Help  the  King  crush  them 
out.  Fight,  fight  and  put  love  aside. 

RODRIGUEZ — I  may  fight,  but  I  will  not  give  up 


32  CHILDREN  OF  GRANADA 

Lagrimas. 

GENERAL — Thou  must  decide. 

RODRIGUEZ — I  have  decided. 

GENERAL — If  them  goest  from  me  to-day,  thou 
goest  forever. 

RODRIGUEZ — I  am  a  man. 

GENERAL — When  thou  tirest  of  her,  do  not  beat 
on  my  door.  Lock  thy  bitterness  in  thine  own 
breast,  for  mine  will  none  of  thee.  (Exit.) 

(Rodriguez  walks  up  and  down.} 

RODRIGUEZ — He  is  hard,  he  is  unjust.  But  I 
have  defied  him  ...  I  have  defied  him. 

(Lagrimas  enters  and  goes  to  the  bench  against 
the  wall.} 

LAGRIMAS — I  left  my  fan. 

RODRIGUEZ — Thy  fan? 

LAGRIMAS — It  is  enough,  Don  Rodriguez. 
(Starts  to  go.} 

RODRIGUEZ — Hast  found  it? 

LAGRIMAS — It  is  of  no  consequence.  Do  not  let 
me  keep  thee  from  thy  father. 

RODRIGUEZ — Ah,  he  hurt  thee  with  his  cruel 
speech. 

LAGRIMAS — Nay,  he  was  right.  I  can  give  thee 
nothing. 

RODRIGUEZ — Thou  canst  give  me  what  I  most 
lack,  faith  in  myself.  I  am  a  make  believe  soldier, 
a  boy  decked  out  with  a  sword  at  my  side,  and  a 
plume  in  my  hat.  Until  this  day  I  never  questioned 
his  bidding,  and  now  I  have  defied  him,  I  have 
defied  my  father. 

LAGRIMAS — Will  he  forgive  thee? 

RODRIGUEZ — I  know  not.     Pride  of  birth,  pride 


CHILDREN  OF  GRANADA  33 

of  position,  pride  of  power,  these  are  his  gods.  I 
have  dared  to  attack  his  power. 

LAGRIMAS — Make  him  proud  of  thee.  Capture 
Hafiz.  He  will  forgive  thee  then. 

RODRIGUEZ — Capture  Hafiz?  That  may  not  be 
so  easy. 

LAGRIMAS — Thy  plan  will  succeed  because  of 
its  very  daring.  I  know  thou  canst  do  it.  (Slow 
ly.)  I  believe  thee  to  be  a  brave  man. 

RODRIGUEZ — And  thou? 

LAGRIMAS — I  shall  be  proud  also. 

RODRIGUEZ — I  must  have  thy  promise.  What 
else  is  there  to  inspire  me? 

LAGRIMAS — Thy  name  as  a  soldier  of  Spain,  thy 
devotion  to  thy  father,  thy  loyalty  to  holy  church. 

RODRIGUEZ — Church,  country,  my  father,  these 
do  not  count,  if  I  have  not  thee. 

LAGRIMAS — I  stand  between  thee  and  thy  father. 

RODRIGUEZ — Between  me  and  life  itself. 

LAGRIMAS — The  sin  of  separating  thee  shall  not 
be  on  my  head.  Make  peace  with  thy  father,  fight 
as  a  soldier  fights,  and  forget — 

RODRIGUEZ — Thee  ? 

LAGRIMAS — Make  peace  with  thy  father. 

RODRIGUEZ — Now  I  know  thou  dost  not  love 
me. 

LAGRIMAS — (Sloivly.)      I  do  not  love  thee! 

(Rodriguez  looks  at  her  an  instant,  then  walks 
quickly  away.) 

LAGRIMAS — I  came  for  something.  (Takes  fan 
from  bosom.)  My  fan?  No,  no!  I  do  not  love 
thee?  Maria,  forgive  the  lie! 

(CURTAIN) 


34  CHILDREN  OF  GRANADA 

THE  FOLLOWING  MORNING 

(A  group  of  Moorish  prisoners,  five  men  and  two 
women  are  on  the  stage.  The  men  and  women  are 
standing  a  little  apart,  the  women  veiled,  all  are 
motionless.  Two  Spanish  soldiers  are  stationed  at 
either  end  of  the  stage.  The  muezzin  is  heard  from 
the  Valley  calling  to  prayer.  The  Moors  prostrate 
themselves  with  face  to  East,  then  assume  original 
position.  There  is  silence  for  a  moment,  and  birds 
are  heard  singing.) 

(Pedro  enters,  and  goes  to  the  group  to  look 
them  over.) 

PEDRO — Hafiz!  He  did  get  thee!  Well,  thou 
art  a  prisoner  worth  taking,  and  if  I  can  read  the 
temper  of  our  General,  thy  infidel  soul  and  body 
may  part  company  before  the  sun  sets  to-night. 

(Moors  remain  silent.     Pedro  leaves  laughing.) 

HAFIZ — What  manner  of  brutes  are  these  Chris 
tians  ! 

HASSAN — What  manner  of  fools  are  we  to  be 
prisoners. 

HAFIZ — No  man  could  have  forseen  the  trick  of 
the  Spanish  Rodriguez,  may  his  forehead  be  black 
ened  with  mud ! 

(Cafour  sways   back   and  forth,   moaning.) 

HAFIZ — Soldiers  everywhere.  There  is  no 
chance  to  escape,  unless  we  go  over  the  wall. 

HASSAN — (Looking  over  wall.)  We  would  per 
ish. 

CAFOUR — (To  Hafiz.)  What  have  they  done 
with  my  son? 


CHILDREN  OF  GRANADA  35 

HAFIZ — The  boy  has  gone  the  way  of  death. 

CAFOUR — Death!  And  thou  his  father,  stand 
calmly  by,  and  know  him  dead! 

HAFIZ — Have  I  not  other  sons  to  avenge  him? 

CAFOUR — The  sons  of  other  mothers,  but  not 
of  my  blood! 

HASSAN — The  Spanish  General — 

(The  Moors  again  are  silent.  General  enters 
with  Pedro.) 

GENERAL — When  were  they  taken? 

PEDRO — Last  night,  General.  We  tried  to  get 
thee,  but  thy  house  was  closed  and  dark. 

GENERAL — They  said  eight  prisoners.  I  count 
but  seven. 

PEDRO — There  was  a  lad  who  flung  himself  over 
the  wall  into  the  Darro. 

GENERAL — A  brave  lad! 

PEDRO — We  have  not  looked  for  the  body. 

CAFOUR — Oh,  my  son! 

GENERAL — Why  are  these  women  here? 

PEDRO — They  followed  the  prisoners.  The  Lieu 
tenant  would  not  have  them  harmed. 

GENERAL — Thy  victorious  lieutenant  hath  a  ten 
der  heart. 

PEDRO — Tender?  He  has  proved  there  is  no 
braver  soldier  in  Spain.  Don  Rodriguez  will  be  an 
idol  now. 

GENERAL — (Amazed.)     Don  Rodriguez! 

PEDRO — The  men  who  went  with  him  say  he  did 
it  all  as — (To  Cafour.)  Back  there  to  thy  place. 

GENERAL — My  son! 

CAFOUR — I  would  speak! 

PEDRO — Speak  when  spoken  to.    Get  back  to  thy 


36  CHILDREN  OF  GRANADA 

place. 

CAFOUR — I  would  speak  to  him.  (Pointing  to 
General. ) 

GENERAL — Remove  thy  veil. 

(Cafour  hesitates  a  moment,  then  throws  back 
her  veil.  The  Moors  turn  their  backs,  that  they 
may  not  see  her  face.} 

GENERAL — Thou  art  not  a  Moorish  woman. 

CAFOUR — I  am  Cafour,  the  Abyssinian,  third 
wife  of  Hafiz  the  Moor. 

GENERAL — What  dost  thou  desire  of  me? 

Cafour — I  want  to  know  of  my  son. 

GENERAL — Thy  son? 

CAFOUR — It  was  he  who  jumped,  there.  (Points 
over  the  wall.) 

PEDRO — The  boy  who  would  not  be  a  prisoner. 

CAFOUR — Thou  saidst  "brave."  Send  down  and 
see  if  he  lives. 

GENERAL — He  could  not  live. 

CAFOUR — He  could  not  die.  He  is  young, 
strong,  happy, — he  could  not  die. 

GENERAL — If  he  lives,  I  will  have  him  shot  for 
trying  to  escape. 

CAFOUR — Thou  saidst  "brave,"  thou  wouldst 
not  kill  him? 

GENERAL — As  I  would  kill  all  infidels  who  fight 
against  Spain  and  our  holy  religion. 

CAFOUR — I  do  not  fight  against  thy  country,  or 
thy  God.  I  beg  for  the  life  of  my  boy.  He  is  not 
dead.  I  know  he  is  not  dead.  Perhaps  he  fell  into 
a  tree,  and  is  only  hurt.  Send  down  the  soldiers 
and  see. 

GENERAL — (To  Cafour.)     Go! 


CHILDREN  OF  GRANADA        3? 

CAFOUR — Send  down  the  soldiers  and  see,  Allah 
will  put  a  blessing  on  thy  house.  He  will  give  thy 
son  his  delight.  He  will  make  his  children  to  rule 
over  men. 

GENERAL — Infidel!  I  care  not  for  thy  blessing. 
(To  Pedro.)  Take  her. 

CAFOUR — Oh,  heart  that  is  dead  to  pity!  As  my 
child  is  lost  to  me,  so  thy  child  shall  be  lost  to  thee! 
Allah  will  make  it  so. 

GENERAL — Take  her  away! 

(Cafour  is  led  out  by  a  soldier.) 

GENERAL — (To  Hafiz.)  A  boy  to  capture  thee! 
Surely  Allah  slept  while  thou  didst  pray  in  the  Mos 
que,  Hafiz! 

HAFIZ — He  will  not  sleep  forever. 

GENERAL — Ye  serve  a  God  who  betrays.  Re 
nounce  thy  false  Mohammed,  thy  futile  faith — 

HAFIZ — Is  faith  so  lightly  changed? 

GENERAL — Believe  in  the  holy  church. 

HAFIZ — Is  there  but  one  road  to  Paradise,  but 
one  God  who  points  the  way? 

GENERAL — There  is  the  true  God  of  the  Chris 
tians. 

HAFIZ — (Bitterly.)  Shall  I  measure  the  depth 
of  his  mercy  by — thine? 

GENERAL — Beware  lest  thy  tongue  cut  thy 
throat. 

HAFIZ — I  shall  give  it  fair  chance. 

GENERAL — Thou  art  too  wise  to  throw  thy  life 
away.  A  man  of  thy  cunning  could  be  of  value  to 
the  King. 

HAFIZ — The  King!  A  weakling  whose  brain's 
befogged  with  the  ignorance  and  bigotry  of  women 


38  CHILDREN  OF  GRANADA 

and  priests.     Hafiz  has  not  fallen  so  low  he  can 
serve  such  a  one. 

GENERAL — The  King  will  give  thee  freedom 
and  safe  passage  to  Africa  if  thou  wilt  but  place  in 
his  hands  the  plans  of  those  Moriscoes  who  head 
this  uprising. 

HAFIZ — Yea,  turn  traitor  to  serve  a  traitor,  and 
after  I  betray  my  people,  be  traitorously  killed. 

GENERAL — Philip  does  not  forget  those  who 
work  for  the  welfare  of  the  crown. 

HAFIZ — Am  I  a  miserable  animal  that  experience 
has  not  taught  me  how  short  is  the  memory  of 
Kings  ?  Have  I  not  heard  of  that  Italian  who  found 
land  beyond  the  farthest  seas,  and  gave  Spain  a 
greater  glory  than  she  had  ever  known?  Unhappy 
voyager,  he  sailed  to  a  death  of  obscurity  and  neg 
lect!  Thy  Kings  are  destroyers,  and  we  who  build, 
fear  the  jackals  who  tear  down. 

GENERAL — I  warn  thee,  Hafiz,  tolerance  will 
not  stretch  much  further. 

HAFIZ — Tolerance!  Spain  does  not  know  the 
word.  Thou  hast  banished  the  Jews,  thou  hast  giv 
en  the  rack,  the  gibbet  and  the  stake  to  the  Chris 
tian  heretics,  thou  wilt  kill  and  exile  the  Moors. 
But  beware,  we  are  the  growers  of  rice  and  sugar, 
of  cotton  and  silk,  how  will  Spain  live  when  these 
fail? 

GENERAL — Enough!  Cool  thy  Moorish  spleen 
in  the  dungeon.  When  fasting  brings  discretion, 
thou  mayest  talk  more  soberly. 
*  HAFIZ — Glut  thy  pious  hatred  as  the  priests  and 
fanatic  Kings  dictate.  Spain's  life  is  the  price!  Her 
glory  will  go  with  the  going  of  the  Moor. 


CHILDREN  OF  GRANADA  39 

GENERAL — Away  with  him. 

(The  guards  march  the  Moors  off  the  stage.) 

PEDRO — He  hath  an  evil  tongue. 

GENERAL — The  honor  of  Spain  is  not  to  be  at 
tacked.  (To  Pedro.)  He  must  have  no  food  until 
I  give  thee  word. 

(Exit  Pedro.     Enter  Rodriguez.) 

RODRIGUEZ — Father,  I  tried  to  see  thee  last 
night,  and  thy  door  was  closed  to  me.  I  craved  but 
thy  blessing. 

GENERAL — I  know  of  thy  bravery.  All  Spain 
will  praise  thee. 

RODRIGUEZ — I  want  no  praise. 

GENERAL — Thou  hast  chosen  thy  way.  Is  it 
bitter  so  soon? 

RODRIGUEZ — Can  it  be  aught  but  bitter  when 
thou  hast  turned  against  me?  Am  I  not  of  thy 
blood,  flesh  of  thy  flesh? 

GENERAL — Why  dost  thou  come  back  to  me? 

RODRIGUEZ — Last  night  when  I  faced  the  Moor, 
Death  stood  grinning  at  my  side,  and  I  was  afraid. 
Suddenly  I  thought  of  thee  and  my  childhood.  I 
forgot  everything  that  success  or  failure  might 
bring,  I  fought  only  to  win  thy  love.  My  arm 
grew  strong,  and  the  grim  spectre  at  my  side  faded, 
for  Love  was  stronger  than  Death ! 

GENERAL — Hast  thou  given  up  this  girl? 

RODRIGUEZ — (Slowly.)     No! 

GENERAL — (Coldly.)  It  shall  be  my  duty  to 
report  to  the  King  and  ask  for  thy  promotion.  Thou 
art  a  brave  soldier,  and  Spain  will  not  be  slow  to 
honor  thee. 

RODRIGUEZ — I  seek  no  honor  from  my  country- 


4o 

men.     I  beg  only  for  thy  love. 

GENERAL — (Sneering.)  Art  thou  a  soldier  or 
a  troubadour  that  love  is  always  on  thy  lips? 

RODRIGUEZ — I  am  thy  son. 

GENERAL — I  speak  to  Lieutenant  don  Rodriguez 
de  Lerma. 

RODRIGUEZ — Thy  son. 

GENERAL — (Slowly.)     I  have  no  son! 


(Lagrimas  is  discovered  leaning  far  over  the 
wall.) 

LAGRIMAS — Brave  little  lad,  brave  little  lad,  the 
limb  of  the  tree  will  hold  thee,  and  then  my  hand. 
Come,  steady,  steady.  .  .  . 

TARIK — My  arm! 

LAGRIMAS — Did  I  hurt?  Steady,  little  lad. 
(Tarik  climbs  over  the  wall.)  Brave  little  lad — 

LAGRIMAS  AND  TARIK — (Together.)  Thou  art 
an  infidel ! 

LAGRIMAS — I  thought  thou  wast  a  Spanish  boy. 

TARIK — I  thought  thou  wast  my  mother.  The 
blood  was  in  my  eyes,  I  could  not  see.  Now,  I 
must  throw  myself  down  again. 

LAGRIMAS — Little  fool,  is  not  once  with  death 
enough? 

TARIK — I  am  Tarik,  son  of  Hafiz  the  Moor,  and 
Cafour  his  wife.  I  will  not  live  to  be  the  slave  of 
a  Christian. 

LAGRIMAS — I  won't  eat  thee,  dirty  infidel ! 
(Shakes  Tarik  and  he  all  but  faints  on  her  hands. 


CHILDREN  OF  GRANADA  41 

Sfie  is  smitten  with  remorse  and  stanches  the  blood 
ic hie h  floics  from  his  head.} 

L AC.RI.MAS — If  thou  wouldst  not  be  a  slave,  why 
didst  thou  come  back  ? 

TARIK — There  are  soldiers  in  the  valley. 

LAGRIMAS — There  are  soldiers  here,  hundreds  of 
them. 

TARIK — (Half  sobbing.)  I — I  wanted  my 
mother. 

LAGRIMAS — (Tenderly.)  Little  lamb,  little 
lamb. 

( General  and  Pedro  enter,  closely  followed  by 
I  t  liciana.  Lagrimas  tries  to  get  away  with  Tarik 
•<{  ho  HI  she  shields  with  her  dress.  They  escape  to 
the  turret.) 

FELICIANA — Pedro,  thou  art  unveiled! 

PEDRO — Sh ! 

FELICIANA — Unveiled,  and  not  an  hour  since 
thou  didst  swear — 

PEDRO — I  swore  only  to  please  thee. 

GENERAL — Is  the  dancer  always  at  thy  side? 

PEDRO — She  is  a  dancer  no  longer,  General. 

FELICIANA — I  am  not  so  sure,  Pedro.  There 
was  thy  part  to  the  bargain.  If  thou  failest,  I  shall 
not  answer  for  my  feet. 

PEDRO — I  pray  thee,  Feliciana, — 

FELICANA — Do  not  attempt  to  silence  me,  a  bar 
gain's  a  bargain.  I  promised  to  cover  my  feet,  only 
if  thou  wouldst  cover  thy  face.  Where  is  the  veil 
I  gave  thee? 

PEDRO — Why  must  thou  shame  me  before  the 
General  ? 

FELICIANA — (Fumbling    in     Pedro's     coat   and 


42  CHILDREN  OF  GRANADA 

bringing  forth  a  veil.)     There,  put  it  on. 

GENERAL — Why  art   thou  veiled,   Pedro? 

PEDRO — I  never  meant  to  wear  it.  It  is  a  whim 
of  hers  because  I  spoke  against  her  dancing. 

FELICIANA — Thou  must  learn  not  to  break 
hearts.  Handsome  men  are  dangerous  to  be  adven 
turing  through  the  land  in  these  days.  It  were  bet 
ter  to  veil  them  all,  than  have  maidens'  hopes  go 
smashing. 

GENERAL — Who  will  succumb  to  Pedro? 

FELICIANA — There  are  women  among  the  Moor 
ish  prisoners.  Pedro  will  flaunt  his  tempting  face 
before  them  every  day.  It  were  sinful  if  they  should 
love  a  Christian,  and  die  of  hopeless  affection. 

PEDRO —  ( Contemptuously. )      Moriscoes ! 

FELICIANA — In  the  city,  Senora  Jacinta  is  pin 
ing  for  him  already,  and  Lagrimas,  the  bull-fighter's 
daughter,  will  singe  her  wings  on  the  altar  of  his 
beauty. 

GENERAL — (Aside.)     Lagrimas! 

PEDRO — Curse  my  alluring  face! 

FELICIANA — Nay,  Pedro,  thou  canst  show  it  to 
me  at  intervals,  and  I  will  let  thee  have  a  little  peep 
at  my  ankles.  It  will  refresh  us  in  our  modesty. 

(General  withdraws  to  side  of  stage.) 

PEDRO — Tsch!  It  is  all  an  invention  of  thine  to 
make  me  suffer  for  scolding  thee.  These  tales  of 
succumbing  maidens  are  false.  Thou  dost  know 
Senora  Jacinta  is  a  child  of  ten,  and  Lagrimas  hath 
bestowed  her  heart  .  .  .  elsewhere. 

FELICIANA — Jacinta  will  grow  up,  and  Lagrimas 
is  free.  She  must  be  protected  from  thy  subtle 
charms. 


CHILDREN  OF  GRANADA  43 

PEDRO — Lagrimos  is  not  free.  She  hath  a  lover 
who  is  mad  for  her. 

FELICIANA — The  lover  hath  been  discarded,  Lag- 
rimas  will  none  of  him. 

GENERAL — (dside.)        Santissima     Maria,     my 


son 


FELICIANA — Now,  I  will  not  have  thee  create 
havoc.  Thou  must  hide  thy  loveliness  behind  a 
veil,  or  thou  too  shalt  be  discarded,  and  the  city 
can  mock  thee  also. 

(General  arises  in  silent  rage  and  walks  back  and 
forth.} 

PEDRO — (To  Feliciana.)  The  lover  of  Lagri- 
mas  is — 

FELICIANA — I  know! 

PEDRO — This  discussion !     The  General's  pride ! 

FELICIANA — It  is  time  he  understood  that  people 
do  not  lie  in  the  road  to  keep  his  haughty  feet  free 
of  dust. 

(Enter  Rodriguez.  Lagrimas  again  attempts  to 
steal  off  with  Tarik — but  is  discovered  by  the  Gen 
eral.  ) 

GENERAL — Who  goes  there? 

PEDRO — (Stops  them.)     Santa  Maria,  a  miracle! 

GENERAL — Who  is  this  boy? 

PEDRO — It  is  the  boy  who  was  killed! 

RODRIGUEZ — Killed  ? 

PEDRO — The  woman's  boy  who  flung  himself 
over  the  wall.  He  must  have  been  killed.  It  is 
a  miracle. 

GENERAL — Hold  him!  (To  Lagrimas.)  Thou, 
what  art  thou  doing  here? 

LAGRIMAS — I  came  to  help  the  boy.     I  saw  him 


44  CHILDREN  OF  GRANADA 

struggling  up  the  face  of  the  wall.  He  is  hurt,  let 
me  care  for  him. 

GENERAL — (Sternly.)     He  is  a  prisoner. 

LAGRIMAS — Surely  thou  dost  not  fight  against 
children,  as  well  as  women?  Let  me  care  for  him. 

GENERAL — Lieutenant  Don  Rodriguez,  wilt  thou 
explain  that  our  King  deems  it  a  crime  against  holy 
church  to  aid  or  shelter  the  infidels? 

RODRIGUEZ — My  word  will  have  little  weight. 

GENERAL — Love  should  make  thy  tongue  elo 
quent. 

RODRIGUEZ — (To  Lagrimas.)  Do  not  bother 
with  the  child,  let  Pedro  take  him. 

LAGRIMAS — (Bitterly.)  Has  success  withered 
thy  brave  heart,  soldier? 

RODRIGUEZ — Wilt  thou  not  understand?  Inter 
ference  may  spell  death. 

LAGRIMAS — Better  my  body,  than  my  soul  to  die. 
(To  General.)  Is  there  no  pity  in  thee?  Does  thy 
lust  for  conquest  extend  to  babies? 

GENERAL — It  is  for  thy  safety  he  pleads. 

LAGRIMAS — I  do  not  need  his  pleading. 

GENERAL — Is  it  thus  thou  showest  love  for  Don 
Rodriguez? 

LAGRIMAS — I  have  not  said  I  love  Don  Rod 
riguez. 

GENERAL — Hast  thou  not  promised  to  marry 
him? 

LAGRIMAS — No,  no,  no! 

RODRIGUEZ — I  have  no  power  to  either  make 
her  love  or  marry  me. 

GENERAL — No  power!  The  man  who  captured 
Hafiz  the  Moor,  to  have  no  power  with  a  woman! 


CHILDREN  OF  GRANADA  45 

RODRIGUEZ — A  woman  is  difficult. 

GENERAL — Dost  thou  not  know,  the  people  in 
the  streets  say  she  flouts  thee,  and  mock  thee  for  a 
sorry  lover? 

RODRIGUEZ — They  will  talk  anyway. 

GENERAL — Where  is  thy  pride?  Wilt  thou  have 
them  jest  at  thee? 

RODRIGUEZ — What  have  I  to  do  with  pride? 

GENERAL — If  thou  wouldst  be  a  son  of  mine, 
marry  her  out  of  hand.  Marry  her,  I  say!  Scorn 
Don  Rodriguez,  the  jade!  It  is  intolerable. 

(Exit.) 

FELICIANA — Thy  father  must  be  a  terrible  care, 
Don  Rodriguez. 

RODRIGUEZ — He  is  not  always  easy  to  under 
stand. 

FELICIANA — Thou  dost  not  manage  him  right. 
Bring  his  Castilian  nose  nearer  the  earth.  There 
are  wholesome  smells  he  is  missing. 

PEDRO — (Shocked.)      Feliciana! 

FELICIANA — Pedro,  I'm  going  to  dance,  I  feel 
I'm  going  to  dance.  Throw  thy  veil  away.  Beauty 
should  never  be  hidden. 

(Pedro  throws  the  veil  over  the  wall.) 

PEDRO — Feliciana ! 

(Pedro   and   Feliciana   exeunt   laughing.) 

LAGRIMAS — (Shyly.)     The  little  fellow  is  hurt. 

RODRIGUEZ — He  is  faint.    Let  me  get  some  wine. 

TARIK — (Sobbing.)  I  will  not  drink  wine.  It 
is  forbidden  ...  I  want  my  mother  .  .  . 
She  will  make  me  well  ...  I  want  my 
mother. 

(Lagrimas     and    Rodriguez     catch     him     as    he 


46  CHILDREN  OF  GRANADA 

faints. ) 

LAGRIMAS — See,  his  eyes  are  open  again. 

TARIK — I  am  well.     Let  me  stand  alone. 

RODRIGUEZ — Thou  art  a  brave  lad  despite  thy 
brown  skin. 

(Enter  soldier.) 

SOLDIER — The  General  says  the  boy  prisoner  is 
to  go  with  his  mother. 

(Tarik  looks  at  Lagrimas,  then  stoops  and  kisses 
the  hem  of  her  dress.) 

TARIK — Allah  will  bless  thee,  and  thy  little  chil 
dren.  It  is  written.  (Exit  with  soldier.) 

(Lagrimas  and  Don  Rodriguez  sit  as  they  were 
in  the  opening  scene.) 

LAGRIMAS — It  is  just  as  it  was  last  night. 

RODRIGUEZ — (Quietly.)  But  I  have  captured 
Hafiz. 

LAGRIMAS — And  thou  speakest  neither  of  thy 
bravery  nor  thy — 

RODRIGUEZ — I  am  getting  wisdom. 

LAGRIMAS — Too  much  wisdom  will  make  a 
monk  of  thee. 

RODRIGUEZ — (After  a  pause.)  I  think  the  stars 
will  shine  to-night. 

LAGRIMAS — (Piqued.)     Oh,  dost  thou? 

RODRIGUEZ — The  air  is  blowing  up  a  little  sharp. 

LAGRIMAS — Maria  be  adored,  there  is  always 
the  weather. 

RODRIGUEZ — Of  what  else  shall  I  speak? 

LAGRIMAS — Of  thee  and — oh  anything! 

(Silence.     Guitars  tinkle  in  the  valley.) 

LAGRIMAS — Dost  hear  the  guitars? 

RODRIGUEZ — No. 


CHILDREN  OF  GRANADA  47 

LAGRIMAS — I  can  hear  them  plainly.  The  senor 
is  a  constant  lover;  she  will  yield  to  him  soon 
.  .  .  What  has  stopped  thine  ears? 

RODRIGUEZ — The  beating  of  my  heart. 

LAGRIMAS — A  soldier's  heart — (stops  suddenly.} 

RODRIGUEZ — Hast  thou  lost  something? 

LAGRIMAS — It  is  no  matter.  I  do  not  want  it 
back. 

(Looks  fixedly  at  his  coat  until  he  fidgets.} 

RODRIGUEZ — Why  dost  thou  stare?  Is  my 
coat —  ? 

LAGRIMAS — What  I  lost,  it  has  gone  inside  thy 
breast.  I  saw  it. 

RODRIGUEZ — (Bewildered.}     I — oh — what  is  it? 

LAGRIMAS — My  heart,  most  beautifully  stupid, 
my  heart! 

RODRIGUEZ — (Clasping   her.}      Lagrimas! 

(CURTAIN} 


THE  TURTLE  DOVE 
A  CHINESE  PLAY 


CAST 

CHORUS. 

CHANG-SUT-YEN,  son  of  CHANG-WON-YIN,  the 

GREAT,  ruler  of  the  Province  of  Canton. 
THE  MANDARIN. 
KwEN-LiN,  His  daughter. 
THE  GOD  OF  FATE. 
THE  PROPERTY  MAN. 
THE  GONG  BEARER. 


The  Turtle  Dove 

The  play  is  acted  in  the  Chinese  manner,  without 
stage  setting.  The  back  drop  is  painted  to  repre 
sent  a  Willow  plate.  Chorus  is  present  at  the  left 
side  of  the  stage  throughout  the  action,  to  explain 
the  story,  announce  the  characters  as  they  appear, 
and  thank  the  audience  for  its  interest.  The  Prop 
erty  Man,  in  a  black  costume,  remains  at  the  back 
of  the  stage.  At  various  specified  times,  he  hands 
the  necessary  properties  to  the  several  characters, 
from  a  small  box  beside  him.  When  not  occupied 
with  stage  work,  he  spends  the  time  reading  a 
Chinese  paper,  and  smoking  a  pipe  or  cigarette. 

All  the  persons  in  the  play  are  in  blue  and  white 
costumes,  to  make  the  plate  picture.  The  Gong- 
Bearer  may  be  in  royal  yellow,  and  Chorus  in  emer 
ald  green. 

The  Curtain  is  drawn  slightly  open,  and  the 
Gong-bearer  appears,  strikes  the  gong  three  times 
very  slowly  and  ten  times  rapidly,  then  walks  to 
the  right  side  of  the  stage,  and  stands  there  through 
out  the  play.  Chorus  appears  between  the  parted 
curtains,  holds  up  his  left  hand  while  the  Gong- 
bearer  strikes  once,  then  addresses  the  audience  in  a 
very  suave  manner. 

CHORUS — Most  illustrious  friends,  I  deliver  the 
three  bows  to  Heaven,  Earth,  and  Man,  (bows 
ceremoniously  to  right,  left,  and  centre)  ancj  obtrude 
myself  on  your  exalted  vision  that  you  may  know 
the  meaning  of  our  poor  play.  The  story  deals  with 
53 


54  THE  TURTLE  DOVE 


the  always  new  love  of  youth  for  maid,  the  abrupt 
tempering  of  a  father's  wrath  to  forgiveness,  and 
the  immutability  of  Fate. 

Our  hero,  Chang-sut-yen,  (Chang-sut-yen  appears 
between  the  curtains,  bows  to  right,  left  and  centre, 
then  disappears  behind  the  curtains}  will  come 
before  you  as  a  servant,  but  in  reality  he  is  none 
other  than  the  son  of  Chang-won-yin,  the  Great, 
ruler  of  this  province  of  Canton.  (Gong-bearer 
strikes  the  gong.}  The  God  of  Fate  decreed  that 
he  should  be  known  as  a  turtle  dove,  and  have  his 
image  forever  emblazoned  on  the  shining  surface  of 
a  Willow  plate.  To  avert  this  calamitous  ending 
to  his  august  life,  Chang-sut-yen  has  fled  the  home 
of  his  father,  and  entered  the  service  of  a  rich  and 
powerful  Mandarin,  where  he  hopes,  by  virtue  of 
his  obscure  position,  to  escape  the  notice  of  the  God. 
But,  as  we  have  said,  Fate  is  immutable,  what  the 
God  plans  must  ever  be,  despite  the  efforts  of  puny 
man. 

You  'will  see  the  Mandarin,  (Mandarin  appears, 
bows,  and  disappears}  rich,  proud,  majestic,  with 
eyes  for  everything  that  may  tend  to  make  him  more 
powerful,  but  superbly  blind  to  virtue  and  worth  in 
the  humble. 

Kwen-lin,  his  daughter  (Kwen-lin  appears,  bows, 
and  retires}  is  swayed  by  love  alone;  a  dangerous 
practice  usually,  but  in  this  story,  one  begging  your 
approval.  Do  not  judge  her  harshly,  in  that  her 
heart  leads  her.  Remember  she  is  a  woman.  Much 
may  be  forgiven  women. 

( The  Property  Man  appears,  bows,  and  looks 
inquiringly  at  Chorus,  who  hesitates  an  instant,  and 


THE  TURTLE  DOVE  55 

then,  as  if  fulfilling  a  rather  unpleasant  duty,  pro 
ceeds.)  I  would  I  might  ignore  the  Property  Man. 
He  composed  a  version  of  this  poetic  tale,  putting 
in  all  the  ugly  truths,  and  serenely  forgetting  all 
the  possible  flower  like  episodes.  As  artists  we  could 
not  consider  it.  (Property  Man  with  a  slight  shrug 
leaves  stage.)  The  Property  Man  is  not  sufficiently 
large  minded  to  accept  our  ripe  and  impartial  opin 
ion.  He  is  superby  indifferent  to  the  luminous  fruit 
from  his  successful  rival's  quill,  and  will  probably 
sulk  through  his  duties.  That  you  may  not  be  dis 
turbed  by  his  presence,  we  have  clothed  him  invisibly 
in  black,  and  you  will  therefore  be  spared  the  pain 
of  seeing  him  at  all. 

I  fear  I  have  kept  you  all  too  long  from  the  feast 
prepared  for  your  delectation.  If  my  brothers  be 
hind  the  curtain  show  not  that  histrionic  merit  you 
so  rightly  demand,  I  pray  you  be  lenient,  and  listen 
with  ears,  and  see  with  eyes,  not  too  critical.  I  con 
duct  you  at  once  to  the  moon-lit  garden  of  the 
wealthy  Mandarin,  where  Chang-sut-yen  is  loiter 
ing,  hoping  to  meet  there  the  Mandarin's  beautiful 
daughter,  Kwen-lin,  who  smiles  on  him.  Is  it  not 
traditionally  the  fashion  of  women  to  adore  most 
that  youth  who  is  forbidden? 

I  bow  to  you  for  your  attentively  honorable  ears. 
I  bow.  I  bow.  ( Gong-bearer  strikes  gong.  Chorus 
•walks  to  left  of  stage,  and  curtains  are  pulled  apart, 
revealing  Chang-sut-yen  standing  before  the  back 
drop.) 

CHANG-SUT-YEN — (Singing.)  Bor  lo  un  doy, 
bor  lo  un  doy,  chin  lo,  chin  lo,  bor  lo  un  doy. 
Kwen-lin  will  know  that  song.  It  is  nothing,  it 


56  THE  TURTLE  DOVE 

says  nothing,  therefore  it  is  pregnant  with  meaning, 
and  my  Bright  Water-lily  will  understand.  (Sing 
ing.)  Bor  lo  un  doy,  bor  lo  un  doy,  chin  lot  chin 
lo,  bor  lo  un  doy.  She  will  come,  dancing  like  sun- 
rays  on  the  flowers  of  my  mind,  and  I  will  press  my 
honorable  lips  to  hers,  and  our  solemn  breaths  will 
mingle.  Though  I  seem  but  a  servant,  I  am  Chang- 
sut-yen,  son  of  Chang-won-yin,  the  Great,  ruler  of 
this  province.  (Gong-bearer  strikes  gong.}  I  am 
also  the  most  glorious  lover  the  Gods  have  made. 
My  soul  was  fashioned  from  the  wind  of  Heaven, 
and  the  purple  fire  of  the  mountain  peak.  My  illus 
trious  body  is  the  sturdy  tree  to  which  maidens  will 
ever  sigh  their  timid  love. 

CHORUS — It  is  the  Mandarin  who  walks  this 
way. 

CHANG-SUT-YEN — (Singing.')  Bor  lo  un  doy, 
bor  lo  un  doy,  chin  lo,  chin  lo,  bor  lo  un  doy, — who 
comes?  Alas,  not  Kwen-lin  the  fragrant,  but  my 
master.  He  will  spit  anger  that  I  linger  in  the 
garden.  I  must  summon  my  snake  tongue  to  puzzle 
his  cow-brain,  lest  he  suspect  I  wait  for  her.  I  will 
divest  myself  of  my  honorable  senses,  and  speak  with 
an  empty  head.  I  will  be  gloriously  fool  possessed. 
(Singing.)  Bor  lo  un  doy,  bor  lo  un  doy,  chin  lo, 
chin  lo,  bor  lo  un  doy. 

(Enter  Mandarin . ) 

MANDARIN — The  night  is  full  of  chill.  If  the 
God  of  Frost  bites  his  sharp  teeth  into  my  fruit 
trees,  they  will  perish.  Br-r-r,  cold ! 

CHANG-SUT-YEN — (Clasping  Mandarin  in  his 
arms.)  August  one,  the  white  moon  lady  slumbers 
in  the  chamber  of  Heaven,  while  I  wait  for  you  to 


THE  TURTLE  DOVE  57 

light  the  path  of  my  dreams. 

MANDARIN — Ancestors,  save  me! 

CHANG-SUT-YEN — We  will  make  loud  prayers  to 
the  tablets  of  our  magnificently  worthy  ancestors 
after  we  embrace.  Let  me  pluck  you,  and  wear  you 
across  my  heart,  before  your  flower  beauty  fades. 

MANDARIN — (Recognizing  him.)  Miserable 
three  footed  dog,  what  maiden  did  you  think  to 
greet  ? 

CHANG-SUT-YEN — I  press  to  my  superb  breast 
only  your  lily  feet,  honorable  Cherry  Blossom. 

MANDARIN — I  am  no  Cherry  Blossom. 

CHANG-SUT-YEN — You  are  all  the  Cherry  Blos 
soms  in  the  Garden  of  Earth,  shedding  perfume  and 
petals  with  every  sighing  breeze. 

MANDARIN — I  shed  nothing  but  the  light  of 
Truth  and  Justice. 

CHANG-SUT-YEN — My  heart  cracks  with  love  for 
you,  and  your  tasks.  At  night  when  sleep  seals  the 
minds  of  other  servants,  I  journey  forth  to  count 
again  your  dazzling  possessions.  Your  peach  trees 
bend  before  me,  and  I  am  blinded.  I  beg  to  work 
for  you  until  Death  sews  a  black  seam  in  my  brain, 
and  I  go  to  my  ancestors. 

MANDARIN — You  have  departed  your  unhappy 
wits.  I  give  you  to-morrow  to  offer  gifts  to  the 
gods.  Pursue  sleep,  and  think  not  of  my  possessions, 
but  rather  of  your  venerable  poverty.  Your  august 
brain  is  not  large  enough  for  Death  to  waste  thread 
on.  Thread  is  costly.  Away  with  you,  and  rest. 

CHANG-SUT-YEN — May  your  golden  finger  nails 
grow,  and  grow,  and  grow,  until  they  grasp  all 
wealth  and  honor.  (Singing.)  Bor  lo  un  doy,  bor 


58  THE  TURTLE  DOVE 

lo  un  doy,  chin  lo,  chin  lo,  bor  lo  un  doy. 

(Exit  Chang,  singing.) 

MANDARIN — He  is  a  faithful  dog,  who  begs  but 
a  kick  to  make  him  lick  my  hand.  I  have  given  him 
too  many  tasks.  He  is  bereft  of  his  toad  mind.  I 
dislike  a  man  who  sings  as  he  works.  Life  does  not 
plan  it  so. 

CHORUS — Kwen-lin,  Bright  Water-Lily,  comes 
to  meet  her  lover. 

(Enter  Kwen-lin,  singing.  Property  Man  hands 
her  a  branch  of  blossoms.) 

KWEN-LIN — (Singing.)  Bor  lo  un  doy,  bor  lo 
un  doy,  chin  lo,  chin  lo,  bor  lo  un  doy. 

MANDARIN — The  mad  one  croaked  that.  (Turns 
back  and  sings.)  Bor  lo  un  doy,  bor  lo  un  doy,  chin 
lo  — 

KWEN-LIN — (Clasping  him.)  Supreme  lover! 
The  happy  breezes  dance  when  your  voice  is  the 
lute. 

MANDARIN — My  important  ears  to  be  so  assail 
ed!  The  world  box  collapses,  and  tumbles  round 
me. 

KWEN-LIN — Noble  father!  I  thought  it  was 
my — 

MANDARIN — Your  ? 

KWEN-LIN — My  singing  bird. 

MANDARIN — A  Cherry  Blossom,  and  a  singing 
bird !  An  illustrious  choice  for  a  man  of  high  posi 
tion. 

KWEN-LIN — You  sound  very  like  a  singing  bird. 

MANDARIN — Something  has  broken  in  their 
heads.  Spring  has  tangled  the  brain  threads.  It 
must  be  Spring! 


THE  TURTLE  DOVE  59 

KWEN-LIN — It  is  Spring,  and  soon  it  will  be 
superb  Summer,  then  Fall,  then  Winter.  The  year 
gone  pff!  like  that,  and  miserable  life  flower  deso 
lated. 

MANDARIN — Before  the  honorable  year  goes  pff! 
like  that,  you  will  be  an  exalted  wife. 

KWEN-LIN — A  wife!    I,  a  wife? 

MANDARIN — For  seventeen  years  of  moons,  your 
nurses  and  teachers  have  polished  you  into  a  state  of 
passable  excellence.  You  are  very  wonderful  as 
foolish  little  girls  go.  You  are  something  of  a  some 
body. 

KWEN-LIN — But  to  what  impressive  man  are  my 
charms  to  be  presented? 

MANDARIN — (Looking  at  invisible  garden.} 
This  late  frost  will  surely  steal  the  jewels  in  my 
garden.  The  servant  Chang  must  cover  the  iris.  I 
can  trust  Chang. 

KWEN-LIN — You  marry  me  to  Chang-sut-yen  ? 

MANDARIN — Do  I  throw  my  child  of  five  thous 
and  and  one  delectable  graces  into  the  arms  of  a 
servant?  I  was  speaking  of  my  garden. 

KWEN-LIN — If  I  am  to  wed,  let  us  speak  of  hus 
bands. 

MANDARIN — Ah,  many  men  have  sought  to  wed 
you,  but  I  have  turned  their  eyes  away,  until  the 
sublime  one  should  ask. 

KWEN-LJN — To  whom  do  I  go? 

MANDARIN — To  the  greatest  of  all!  To  be 
dazzled,  to  be  petted,  to  be  surrounded  by  every 
superior  luxury. 

KWEN-LIN — (Impatiently.)     To  whom  do  I  go? 
MANDARIN — There  is  honor  and  eminence  the 


60  THE  TURTLE  DOVE 

alliance  will  give  me,  and  money  it  will  add  to  my 
already  considerable  store.  We  will  not,  as  a  mat 
ter  of  policy,  show  we  are  flattered.  We  will  be 
proud,  we  will  be  haughty,  we  will  drive  a  shrewd 
bargain  when  the  wealthy  Ta-yin  of  Canton  would 
make  you  his  bride. 

.  KWEN-LIN — The  Ta-yin  of  Canton!     I  will  not 
marry  the  Ta-yin  of  Canton ! 

MANDARIN — What  strange  words  do  your  lips 
produce  ?  Does  my  daughter  oppose  her  insect  mind 
to  mine? 

KWEN-LIN — I  will  not  marry  the  Ta-yin  of  Can 
ton.  He's  ugly,  he's  bold,  he's  yellow  as — 

MANDARIN — Gold ! 

KWEN-LIN — He  shakes  when  he  walks — 

MANDARIN — He's  a — 

KWEN-LIN — Hundred  years  old!  My  heart 
would  crack  with  grief  were  I  to  marry  him. 

MANDARIN — I  never  yet  heard  that  any  maiden 
died  of  grief  at  the  prospect  of  being  a  bride. 

KWEN-LIN — Br-r-r-r! 

MANDARIN — (Jumping.}     What  was  that? 

KWEN-LIN — My  heart  cracking.  Death  is 
clutching  for  me. 

MANDARIN — (Wearily.)  Go  away,  Death. 
Take  her,  if  you  must,  after  she  is  wed.  The 
wealthy  Ta-yin  can  better  bear  the  sad  expenses. 

KWEN-LIN — I'm  dying  now,  dying,  dying.  It's 
quite  delicious!  (Lies  down.  Property  Man  puts 
a  blue  cushion  under  her  head.}  I'm  almost  dead! 

MANDARIN — You  can't  die  like  this.  It's  most 
absurd,  besides  being  unbeautiful. 

KWEN-LIN — Have  no   fear,   my   death   will   be 


THE  TURTLE  DOVE  61 

magnificently  beautiful.  I  have  practiced  many 
times,  and  know. 

MANDARIN — Get  up,  fox  soul! 

KWEN-LIN — (Sitting  up.)  Have  respect  for  my 
solemnly  departing  life.  My  heart  will  not  throb 
longer.  (Lies  down.)  I  am  dead! 

MANDARIN — (Prodding  her  with  foot.)  Get 
up,  get  up,  get  up!  I  must  carry  her!  (Stoops,  and 
puts  arms  under  Kwen-lin.)  Oh,  for  the  strong 
muscles  of  my  lusty  young  arms.  We  have  fed  her 
too  well.  She  weighs  many  pounds.  (Stands  up, 
and  claps  hands.  Chang-sut-yen  enters.) 

CHANG-SUT-YEN — My  serene  mind  presents  it 
self  to  you,  great  master. 

MANDARIN — Sleep  should  be  gathering  up  the 
ends  of  your  serene  mind,  but  it  is  as  well.  My 
daughter's  honorable  body  has  persuaded  itself  to 
seek  its  illustrious  ancestors — 

CHANG-SUT-YEN — (Kneeling  beside  Kwen-lin.) 
Kwen-lin  dead,  dead!  Then  let  the  lady  moon  fall 
from  the  mighty  loft  of  Heaven,  and  burn  my  life 
to  ashes  of  wistaria! 

MANDARIN — Your  overwhelming  grief  at  my 
bereavement  becomes  a  servant,  but  let  not  the  pock 
ets  of  your  eyes  fill  with  tears.  Bear  her  to  the 
house.  She  shall  be  whipped  alive!  (Kwen-lin 
shudders.)  The  sublime  wasp  shakes  at  that? 

CHANG-SUT-YEN — (Bending  over  Kwen-lin,  and 
looking  into  her  wide  open  eyes.)  It  was  a  death 
throe,  exalted  one. 

MANDARIN — Can  your  arms  support  her? 

CHANG-SUT-YEN — I  lift  a  Cherry  Blossom  with 
more  effort. 


62 


MANDARIN — Speak  not  of  Cherry  Blossoms. 
Pick  her  up.  (Chang  starts  to  lift  Kwen-lin.}  No, 
no,  that  is  not  wise.  How  shall  we  do  it? 

CHANG-SUT-YEN — (Craftily.}  I  can  guard  the 
crystal  vase  of  her  departed  soul,  while  you  go  for 
help. 

MANDARIN — It  had  not  penetrated  my  disturbed 
brain.  I  go  for  help. 

(Exit  Mandarin.} 

KWEN-LIN — (Sitting  up.}     Superb  love  mate! 

CHANG-SUT-YEN — (Hurriedly.}  Augustly  enter 
the  world  of  the  venerable  dead  again,  luscious  one, 
your  honorable  father  looks  this  way. 

KWEN-LIN — (Lying  down.}  Do  your  eyes 
grow  pearls  that  I  am  with  my  ancestors? 

CHANG-SUT-YEN — The  love  butterflies  are  wing 
ing  in  the  happy  recesses  of  my  heart.  My  breath 
will  smother  me  with  joy. 

KWEN-LIN — (Sitting  up.}  Joy,  when  my  father 
is  going  to  marry  me  to  the  Ta-yin  of  Canton? 

CHANG-SUT-YEN — Exalted  joy,  because  before 
that  can  happen  my  father  will  have  the  Ta-yin 
beheaded. 

KWEN-LIN — An  orphan  has  no  father. 

CHANG-SUT-YEN — I  have  a  celestial  now  and 
then  father,  who  does  these  necessary  but  disagree 
able  things.  I  think  he  will  dispose  of  the  wealthy 
Ta-yin  if  I  ask  him. 

KWEN-LIN — It  must  be  a  wonderful  convenience. 
We  will  make  a  list  of  all  those  superbly  annoying 
persons  we  do  not  like,  and  have  your  celestial  now 
and  then  father,  behead  them. 

CHANG-SUT-YEN — We  will    ponder   it,    Bright 


THE  TURTLE  DOVE  63 

Water-lily,  when  we  are  not  serenely  happy. 

KWEN-LIN — I  do  not  like  being  whipped  alive! 
My  teeth  chatter  when  I  think  of  it,  and  I  can't 
be  happy. 

CHANG-SUT-YEN — A  base  whip  to  touch  you! 
Nay,  my  lips  shall  make  you  live.  (Kisses  her.) 
I  am  gloriously  versed  in  lip  magic.  (Kisses  her 
again. ) 

KWEN-LIN — Let  us  fly  on  our  illustrious  legs, 
and  be  married  with  the  six  ceremonies,  before  my 
father  returns.  I  like  that  lip  magic.  It  makes 
singing  here. 

(Kwen-lin  touches  heart.  She  and  Chang-sut-yen 
exeunt.  The  Property  Man  looks  around  the  stage 
slowly,  glances  in  the  property  box,  then  saunters 
casually  off.) 

(CURTAIN) 

CHORUS — I  bow. 

(Chorus  leaves  stage  followed  by  Gong-bearer.) 

Scene  II 

(Chorus  again  appears  before  the  closed  curtains, 
and  raises  his  left  hand,  while  the  Gong-bearer, 
who  has  walked  to  his  original  position  at  the  right 
side  of  the  stage  strikes  the  Gong  once.) 

CHORUS — Many  perfumed  months  have  passed 
since  Chang-sut-yen  wedded  Kwen-lin,  and  each  has 
added  a  white  hibiscus  blossom  to  the  garland  of 
life.  But  now  bitter  winter  comes,  snow  is  on  the 
paeony  hill,  the  hosts  of  evil  are  abroad.  The 
Mandarin,  with  never  ending  rage,  has  spent  the 
months  searching  throughout  the  Empire  to  discover 


64  THE  TURTLE  DOVE 

their  dwelling  place.  Now  he  has  learned  where 
it  is,  and  pursues  Chang-sut-yen  with  a  death  deal 
ing  thong,  which  he  will  wield  with  dire  results.  It 
is  the  pleasure  of  the  illustrious  author  that  the 
villain  act  in  a  supremely  unpleasant  manner,  in 
order  to  bring  out  the  tenderness  of  the  play.  Our 
lovers,  not  knowing  this  is  a  comedy,  (and  therefore 
must  conclude  with  smiles  and  feasting) ,  are  over 
whelmed  with  fear.  I  beg  you  not  to  share  this  fear, 
except  inasmuch  as  it  may  make  the  after  enjoyment 
of  the  happy  ending  more  piquant  and  superbly  sat 
isfying. 

I  bow  to  you,  and  conduct  you  to  the  home  of 
Chang-sut-yen,  and  Kwen-lin,  his  wife. 

(Gong-bearer  strikes  gong.  Chorus  walks  to  his 
place  at  the  left  of  stage.  The  Curtains  are  drawn 
apart,  and  reveal  Chang-sut-yen,  and  Kwen-lin. 
The  Property  Man  is  at  the  back  of  the  stage,  as 
before.} 

KWEN-LIN — Is  my  august  father  yet  stamping  on 
the  road?  Peep  out  of  the  door,  heroic  one,  and 
show  but  part  of  one  eye,  lest  the  radiance  from  both 
light  the  world  like  stars,  and  he  swoop  upon  us. 

CHANG-SUT-YEN — (Looking  out  of  imaginary 
doorway.}  I  see  not  his  angry  body. 

KWEN-LIN — I  would  not  face  him  here.  Let  us 
go  outside,  and  sit  neath  the  eaves  of  the  pagoda. 
He  may  miss  our  presence,  and  leave  without  shat 
tering  this  temple  of  our  love  dreams. 

(Property  Man  opens  invisible  door,  they  descend 
two  steps  and  sit  down,  and  Property  Man  closes 
the  door.} 

CHANG-SUT-YEN — Little    humming    bird,    your 


THE  TURTLE  DOVE  65 

heart  wings  beat  wildly  against  my  solemn  breast. 

KWEN-LIN — His  fiery  breath  will  wither  our 
blood.  Feel  how  it  scorches  the  grey  veil  of  night. 
He  is  coming  to  consume  us,  he  is  coming  to  con 
sume  us!  I  fear  his  terrible  rage. 

CHANG-SUT-YEN — Nay,  tremble  not,  for  I,  your 
lover,  shelter  you  in  my  heart. 

CHORUS — The  Mandarin  comes. 

KWEN-LIN — (Sadly.)  The  wine  cup  is  drained, 
the  love  songs  all  are  silenced. 

(Enter  Mandarin.} 

MANDARIN — Base  thief  and  destroyer,  at  last  I 
have  found  the  hole  in  which  you  hide! 

CHANG-SUT-YEN — A  lover  seeks  only  food  for 
his  love.  If  he  destroys  or  thieves  what  matter? 
Love  is  first. 

MANDARIN — My  tongue  sends  flame  into  your 
viper  soul.  Go  to  your  ancestors,  they  beckon  you. 

KWEN-LIN — Let  us  escape  across  the  bridge! 

(Property  Man  holds  bamboo  stick  horizontally 
for  bridge.} 

CHANG-SUT-YEN — Why  should  we  flee? 

KWEN-LIN — Why  should  we  perish?  To  the 
bridge!  We  will  outrun  him. 

(They  run  onto  bridge.} 

CHANG-SUT-YEN — (Grasping  bamboo.}  The 
bridge  shakes.  Its  ribs  are  rotten.  We  will  fall 
into  the  water. 

KWEN-LIN — (Off  stage.)     I  fall,  I  drown! 

CHANG-SUT-YEN — Bright  Water-lily,  float  upon 
the  water's  face. 

MANDARIN — I  pull  down  your  star  from  Heav 
en's  dome. 


66  THE  TURTLE  DOVE 

CHANG-SUT-YEN — My  star  dropped  to  Earth, 
when  the  light  of  hers  failed. 

(Property  Man  hands  whip  to  Mandarin.} 

MANDARIN — I  strike  with  my  exalted  whip.  By 
the  God  of  Fate,  you  die! 

(Strikes  Chang  with  whip.  Chang  falls.  Gong- 
bearer  strikes  gong.  The  God  of  Fate,  wearing 
grotesque  mask,  enters.} 

FATE — Who  calls  me  to  the  world  of  men? 

MANDARIN — What  unknown  fear  are  you? 

FATE — I  am  the  God  of  Fate. 

MANDARIN — I  have  sent  a  dog  to  death.  (Stoops 
and  takes  a  small  red  bag  from  Chang's  breast.} 

FATE — Chang-sut-yen  is  mine!    He  must  not  die. 

MANDARIN — My  exulting  mind  does  not  record 
your  meaning. 

FATE — (Stooping  over  Chang,  and  putting  the 
red  bag  back.}  Chang-sut-yen,  son  of  Chang-won- 
yin,  the  Great,  I  give  you  back  your  heart !  ( Gong- 
bearer  strikes  gong.} 

MANDARIN — Chang-sut-yen,  son  of  Heaven!  I 
bow  in  the  dust  three  times.  (Prostrates  himself.} 

FATE — (To  Chang.}  Arise,  and  continue  your 
exalted  life. 

CHANG-SUT-YEN — (Rising.}  My  path  is  lost  in 
crookedness  until  I  join  her.  Let  me  go. 

FATE — The  gods  have  not  yet  dried  the  ink  on 
the  pages  of  your  book  of  life.  You  must  live,  to 
Mve  upon  a  Willow  plate. 

CHANG-SUT-YEN — And  be  broken  by  the  heavy 
hand  of  august  Time,  and  unkind  Chance.  (Prop 
erty  Man  hands  knife  to  Chang.}  With  this  frosty 
blade,  I  cut  the  circle  of  life,  and  press  my  lips  to 


THE  TURTLE  DOVE  67 

the  jade  cup  of  nothingness.  I  am  a  lover  bereft 
of  my  mate. 

FATE — You  must  live!  (Touches  Chang's  arm 
with  staff.  The  knife  falls  to  the  ground.  Prop 
erty  Man  picks  it  up,  and  puts  it  back  in  the  prop 
erty  box.) 

CHANG-SUT-YEN — Kwen-lin,  I  leap  across  the 
river  of  Heaven  to  your  arms! 

FATE — She  is  not  dead.  She  dreams,  and  smiles 
upon  the  bosom  of  the  water. 

(To  Kwen-lin.)     Awake!    Awake! 

(Kwen-lin  enters,  and  goes  to  Chang.) 

FATE — Your  sublime  father,  Chang-won-yin,  has 
gone  to  his  ancestors.  You  are  Chang-sut-yen,  the 
Great,  ruler  of  this  province. 

(Gong-bearer  strikes  gong.) 

CHANG-SUT-YEN — I  renounce  my  rule.  I  am  a 
lover,  not  a  ruler. 

FATE — You  are  a  turtle  dove.  (To  Mandarin.) 
To  your  home,  and  set  forth  majestic  feasting. 
Chang-sut-yen  will  honor  your  house.  He  rules. 

CHANG-SUT-YEN — I  rule  not.     I  am  a  lover. 

KWEN-LIN — Exalted  one,  a  lover  is  a  turtle  dove. 

FATE — It  is  sometimes  given  to  women  to  know 
the  truth.  Thus  Fate  is  fulfilled,  and  Chang-sut- 
yen,  the  turtle  dove,  will  live  upon  a  Willow  plate. 

(Gong-bearer  strikes  the  gong  twice.) 

(CURTAIN) 

CHORUS — For  your  eager  ears,  for  your  shining 
eyes,  for  your  smiling  faces,  I  bow,  I  bow,  I  bow. 

(Chorus  followed  by  the  Gong-bearer  goes  behind 
the  curtains.) 


THIS  YOUTH— GENTLEMEN! 
A  FANTASY 


CAST 


A  MAN. 
A  BOY. 


This  Youth— Gentlemen! 

Scene  I — A  narrow  lane  sharply  ascending  the 
hill-side.  In  the  distance  a  lake  shimmers  in  the 
sunlight.  As  the  curtain  rises  the  BOY  is  discov 
ered  sitting  on  a  huge  boulder.  He  curiously 
watches  the  approaching  MAN. 

MAN — The  road  is  narrow. 

BOY — (Curtly.)     I  like  it  so. 

MAN — I  have  followed  you  from  the  valley. 

BOY — (Moving  aside.)  I'll  follow  you  up  the 
hill. 

MAN — (Smiling.)     I  may  wait  here. 

BOY — I  may  play.  (He  throws  a  stone  across  the 
waters,  and  laughs  as  it  strikes  the  surface.) 

MAN — (Sharply.)  Now!  You  have  disturbed 
the  frogs  and  hidden  green  things! 

BOY — A  ripple  on  the  waters !  It's  the  smile  that 
quick  adorns  my  lady's  face  when  I  tell  .  .  . 
A  little  ripple — it  whispers  of  spring  and  youth  to 
the  hidden  green  things.  I  am  glad  I  flung  the 
stone ! 

MAN — Youth!  A  braggart  word  employed  by 
fools  and  poets  who  have  not  lived. 

BOY — Youth!  A  magic  word,  the  talisman  of 
those  who  seek  the  promised  land ! 

MAN — (Slowly.)  I  seek  the  world  of  yester 
day! 

BOY — We     left     it     ...     yesterday.       Your 
road  lies  back  in  the  valley. 
73 


74         THIS  YOUTH-GENTLEMEN! 

MAN — I  carry  a  chart  in  my  breast,  it  marks  the 
place  where  yesterday  stands.  This  lane  leads  there. 

BOY — It  leads  to  the  land  of  promise. 

MAN — I  carry  a  chart  in  my  breast. 

BOY — Your  chart,  it  lies !  I'm  going  on ;  follow 
if  you  like. 

MAN — What  shall  you,  who  have  not  lived,  do 
when  we  reach  the  world  of  yesterday? 

BOY — Show  you  my  land  of  promise. 

MAN — Then  haste! 

BOY — Never  fear.     My  feet  are  swift. 

Scene  II — A  ledge  between  a  deep  ravine  and  the 
mountain.  Night. 

MAN — Dear  lad,  let  us  rest  here. 

BOY — (Laughing.}  This  is  the  edge  of  the 
world. 

MAN — Sit  not  too  near,  I  beg  you. 

BOY — I'll  dangle  my  legs  over  the  cliff,  and  watch 
the  shadow  of  the  devil  diminish. 

MAN — (Lying  wearily  on  the  ground.)  To 
flutter  like  a  feather  from  the  wing  of  a  soaring 
eagle — to  lie  unseen  and  forgotten  among  the  dead 
leaves  of  the  forest. 

BOY — Come,  and  see  the  shadow. 

MAN — I  feel  it  on  my  heart. 

BOY — The  devil  made  that  chart  you  boast  about ! 

MAN — And  locked  it  in  my  breast. 

BOY — It  has  taken  away  your  peace. 

MAN— Peace!  To  hear  that  name  on  all  men's 
lips,  to  search  and  search  and  never  know  its  habita 
tion. 


THIS  YOUTH-GENTLEMEN!         73 

BOY — They  say:  He  that  pursueth,  never  shall 
overtake ! 

MAN — (To  himself.)  Desires  die,  ideals  are 
forgotten,  love  passes  away.  The  mantel  of  eternal 
snow  envelops  all  men,  what  shall  escape? 

BOY— Youth ! 

MAN — Which  knows  not  life. 

BOY — Must  one  experience  to  know?  .  .  . 
Do  I  not  feel? 

MAN — In  all  these  days  we  have  been  together, 
what  have  you  felt  for  me? 

BOY — That  you  sowed  wisely,  but  knew  not  how 
to  garner.  You  speak  of  ideals  lost — 

MAN — I  am  not  sure  I  ever  had  them. 

BOY — Is  it  work  or  play,  love  or  life,  your  ideal 
of  yesterday? 

MAN — Yesterday!     Did  it  ever  exist? 

BOY — It  died  the  night  of  its  birth,  and  vanished 
in  rose  smoke,  making  incense  to  the  gods  who  once 
reigned. 

MAN — Who  told  you  all  this? 

BOY — My  lady — in  the  twilight. 

MAN — Your  lady? 

BOY — She  sent  me  to  find  the  promised  land. 
She  will  come  when  I  am  there.  My  heart  is 
strong,  and  I  can  wait  for  her. 

MAN — My  heart  was  strong  and  passionate;  it 
pulses  no  longer  like  a  man's,  but  serves  to  beat  out 
the  unconsidered  tickings  of  the  ashen  days. 

BOY — Then  sit  with  me,  be  a  child,  and  laugh  at 
the  shadow.  So  faith  may  come  again. 

MAN — The  day  is  breaking. 

BOY — (Whimsically.)     Alas,  the  shadow's  gone, 


76         THIS  YOUTH-GENTLEMEN! 

and  you  have  not  seen  it !  Look  yonder  at  the  little 
stream,  it  leaps  like  a  white  flame  down  the  grey 
old  rocks. 

(They  peer  over  the  cliff  together.) 

MAN — I  smell  the  living  earth. 

BOY — I  want  to  climb  the  mountain  side.  Who 
knows  what  treasures  may  be  there? 

MAN — (Slowly.)  I  know  the  place — the  place 
above. 

BOY — Have  you  been  there? 

MAN — No.  ...  I  dreamed  and  thought  to 
reach  it  once,  but  lost  the  way. 

(They  climb  together.) 

BOY — Why  do  you  laugh? 

MAN — My  blood  has  turned  to  flame.  I  feel  it 
burning  in  my  body. 

BOY — The  morning  sun  is  in  your  veins.  I  know 
.  .  .  What  do  you  see? 

MAN — (Whispering.)     Your  land  of  promise! 

BOY — It  is  not  so!  My  land  of  promise  is  more 
beautiful  than  anything  one  may  imagine! 

MAN — This  is  more  beautiful. 

BOY — I  would  know  if  this  were  it. 

MAN — This  is  the  land  I  say.  Laugh  with  me 
and  shout.  The  shadow  of  the  devil  has  gone.  I 
have  found  the  place  and  myself. 

BOY — Not  so!  The  place  is  farther  off,  and 
higher.  I  am  not  content  with  this! 

MAN — Come  with  me,  youth,  to  the  summit! 

BOY — (Eagerly.)  I'll  climb  with  you  .  .  . 
I'll  climb  .  .  .  to  the  summit! 

(CURT4IN) 


THE  STRIKER 


CAST 

JOHN  QuiNN,  A  mortorman  on  strike. 

MRS.  QUINN,  His  wife. 

MOLLY,  His  daughter. 

BILL  MARTIN,  A  neighbor,  also  on  strike. 

MRS.  MARTIN,  His  wife. 


The  Striker 


Scene — A  dining  room  in  a  workman's  home. 
Plain  but  scrupulously  neat  and  clean.  Door  L 
leads  to  kichen.  Door  R  leads  to  front  door.  Mrs. 
Quinn  is  seated  at  centre  table  darning  socks  and 
talking  to  her  neighbor,  Mrs.  Martin. 

MRS.  MARTIN — (Dropping  a  few  pennies  into  a 
purse,  and  shutting  it  with  a  snap.)  Seven  weeks, 
and  not  one  cent  coming  in.  I  don't  know  how 
we'll  live,  if  it  keeps  up  much  longer. 

MRS.  QUINN — A  strike's  a  bitter  thing  Mrs. 
Martin,  and  no  one  knowin'  how  it  will  end. 

MRS.  MARTIN — Why  can't  they  talk  it  out?  It 
seems  to  me  if  the  motormen  and  conductors  sent 
a  committee  to  the  company,  they  might  arrive  at 
an  understanding. 

MRS.  QUINN — But  the  company  don't  take 
stock  in  the  Union,  and  a  committee  of  men  would 
be  a  Union  committee,  or  nothin'. 

MRS.  MARTIN — Let  them  arbitrate,  I  say,  let 
them  arbitrate. 

MRS.  QUINN — It's  a  nice  soundin'  word,  is  ar 
bitrate,  but  no  one  wants  to  do  it,  save  them  as 
ain't  interested.  A  man  hits  with  his  fist  first,  and 
arbitrates  afterwards, — in  the  police  court. 

MRS.  MARTIN — Men  are  queer  creatures. 
There's  my  Bill,  a  more  religious  man  never  walked, 
if  I  do  say  it  myself,  and  yet  he's  as  bitter  as  poison 
against  the  company. 

MRS.  QUINN — Religion  don't  always  kill  bit- 
Si 


82  THE  STRIKER 

terness — 

MRS.  MARTIN — This  morning  I  wakened  up 
before  five  o'clock,  and  he  wasn't  in  bed.  I  went 
down  stairs  to  see  what  had  happened,  and  found 
him  sneaking  in  the  back  gate  like  a  thief.  Heaven 
only  knows  what  he  was  doing  outside  at  that  time 
in  the  morning.  Mischief,  I'll  bet. 

MRS.  QUINN — Aye,  it  was  mischief,  and  my  old 
man  in  it  too.  I  got  it  out  of  John  when  he  came 
back.  They  had  been  out  before  the  dawn,  pryin' 
up  trolley  tracks  with  a  crow-bar. 

MRS  MARTIN — A  fine  mess  if  they'd  been 
caught. 

MRS.  QUINN— Locked  up,  that's  what  would 
have  happened,  nice  pair  of  old  fools  that  they  are! 

MRS.  MARTIN — It  must  be  devilish  though, 
to  have  strike  breakers  come  in  and  run  the  cars, 
while  the  men  are  sticking  out  for  a  principle. 

MRS.  QUINN — A  principle's  a  fine  excuse  now 
and  then,  for  a  bunch  of  men  to  fight  behind. 

MRS.  MARTIN — But  this  is  a  principle  worth 
fighting  for. 

MRS.  QUINN — Maybe  it  is. 

MRS.  MARTIN — I  wish  you'd  go  to  the  lectures 
at  the  Lyceum  with  me.  You'd  understand  things 
better.  My,  I  miss  your  Molly.  We  heard  so 
many  wonderful  men  talk,  and  she  was  so  quick 
getting  their  ideas,  it  was  just  great  to  be  with  her. 

MRS.  QUINN — Well,  you  know,  she'd  tell  me 
about  them  when  she  got  home.  I  remember  that 
first  man  who  talked  of  the  virtue  of  humility  and 
self-sacrifice.  Molly  was  that  full  of  onselfishness 
after  hearin'  him,  that  she  almost  gave  her  job  to 


THE  STRIKER  83 

Jennie  Tubbs,  thinkin'  she  needed  the  money  more 
than  we  did. 

MRS.  MARTIN — That  was  Prof.  William 
Mason.  He  was  a  noble  character. 

MRS.  QUINN — Aye,  but  he  didn't  last.  He  was 
followed  by  the  moral  uplifter  one.  Sure,  we  lived 
on  pins  and  needles  then !  After  him  we  had  a  course 
in  sanitation,  and  pure  food,  and  how  to  feed  a 
fam'ly  of  six  on  $4.00  a  week.  Oh,  them  last  was 
wonderful  fairy  tales.  The  meals  that  woman  could 
manufacture  out  of  an  old  ham  bone!  It  was  past 
belief. 

MRS.  MARTIN — I  tried  a  few  of  her  receipts,  but 
Bill  wouldn't  eat  the  things  I  made.  He  said  he 
wasn't  a  horse  yet. 

MRS.  QUINN — Aw,  she  was  a  joker,  I'm 
thinkin',  put  in  the  pack  to  lighten  the  others  up  a 
bit.  Lectures  is  an  easy  way  of  gettin'  scraps  of 
learnin',  but  it's  done  neither  of  ye  lastin'  hurt  that 
I  can  see. 

MRS.  MARTIN — I  heard  the  walking  delegate 
talk  this  afternoon.  The  men  got  pretty  excited 
listening  to  him.  He  told  them  their  rights,  and 
it'll  be  a  wonder  to  me,  if  they  don't  do  a  good  bit 
of  damage  to  the  Company's  property  before  this 
thing  ends. 

MRS.  QUINN — The  walkin'  delegate's  a  smart 
lad,  from  all  I  hear. 

MRS.  MARTIN — He's  smart  enough  to  get  paid 
for  the  work  he  does. 

MRS.  QUINN — He  gets  paid  for  startin'  strikes, 
is  it? 

MRS.   MARTIN — He  goes  all   over  the  country 


84  THE  STRIKER 

telling  the  men  when  to  strike,  and  what  to  strike 
for.  He  gets  paid  for  that. 

MRS.  QUINN — But  the  men  don't  get  paid  for 
strikin'. 

MRS.  MARTIN — That's  a  silly  idea,  Mrs.  Quinn. 

MRS.  QUINN — You  can  .  have  it  for  what  it's 
worth.  Molly  used  to  say  I  had  more  ideas  than 
a  dog  has  fleas,  but  I  fancy  she  was  just  slatherin' 
me  over  with  the  blarney. 

MRS.  MARTIN — Well,  I  believe  the  walking  del 
egate's  right.  The  men  must  fight  this  out  to  a 
finish. 

MRS.  QUINN — It's  likely  to  be  our  finish,  al 
right,  alright. 

MRS.  MARTIN — (Unconsciously  imitating  the 
delegate.}  It's  not  only  for  ourselves,  but  for  our 
children  that  the  war  must  be  waged. 

MRS.  QUINN — Our  children !  Sure,  it  shouldn't 
be  a  bequeathment  job,  this  trolley  business. 

MRS.  MARTIN — He  says  our  children  will  be 
saved  a  fight  for  their  rights,  if  we  conquer  now. 

MRS.  QUINN — Whist  darlin',  our  children  will 
have  their  own  notion  of  rights  and  fights  by  the 
time  they  grow  up.  They  can  blow  on  their  own 
broth  when  it  bubbles  over. 

MRS.  MARTIN — But  the  noble  way  is  to  consider 
the  ones  who  come  after  us. 

MRS.  QUINN — Maybe  that's  so,  me  dear  Mrs. 
Martin,  but  I'm  after  lookin'  out  for  the  man  of  to 
day.  The  better  off  we  are,  the  better  off  our  kids'll 
be. 

MRS.  MARTIN — The  walking  delegate  says  that's 
a  very  selfish  way  of  looking  at  it. 


THE  STRIKER  85 

MRS.  QUINN — The  walkin'  delegate's  got  the 
fine  words  in  his  mouth. 

(Silence.) 

MRS.  MARTIN — Have  you  heard  from  Molly 
lately  ? 

MRS.  QUINN — Poor  darlin',  I  got  a  letter  from 
her  this  mornin'.  She's  comin'  home. 

MRS.  MARTIN — Does  Mr.  Quinn  know? 

MRS.  QUINN — I'll  have  it  out  with  him  to-night. 

MRS.  MARTIN — He's  a  pretty  stubborn  man. 

MRS.  QUINN — I'll  bring  him  around,  never  fear. 

MRS.  MARTIN — I  think  you're  a  wonderful 
woman,  the  way  you  manage  him,  Mrs.  Quinn. 

MRS.  QUINN — Sure  it's  just  me  knowledge  of 
that,  keeps  me  goin'.  When  I  lose  conceit  of  meself, 
I'll  be  fit  for  no  place  but — Heaven. 

MRS.  MARTIN — (Listens,  with  finger  uplifted.) 
Sh!  That's  Bill  slamming  the  back  gate.  I'll  go 
put  the  kettle  on.  A  cup  of  hot  tea  soon  takes  all 
the  ugly  kinks  out  of  him. 

MRS.  QUINN — It's  an  upliftin'  beverage,  is  tea. 
It  does  miracles  for  my  old  man,  when  he  has  his 
back  up. 

MRS.  MARTIN — (Going  to  door  L.  then  hesitat 
ing.)  I'm  not  a  specially  religious  woman,  Mrs. 
Quinn,  and  I've  never  heard  you  say  much  about  it, 
but  I  think  now  that  everything  else  has  failed  and 
the  strike  seems  no  nearer  an  end,  we  might  as  well 
take  it  to  God  in  prayer.  As  Bill  says,  we've 
tried  every  other  way. 

MRS.  QUINN — (Slowly.)  Well,  I  guess  Gawd's 
used  to  bein'  the  last  on  the  list,  so  I'll  join  ye  in 
yer  prayers,  Mrs.  Martin.  Good-night  to  ye. 


86  THE  STRIKER 

(Exit  Mrs  Martin  door  L.) 

(Mrs.  Quinn  pulls  down  the  blind  and  fusses 
about  the  room.  There  is  a  sharp  bang  on  the  front 
door.  She  leaves  room  R.  and  returns  with  the 
evening  paper.  Looks  out  the  window  again,  rais 
ing  the  blind  ever  so  little,  then  sits  at  table,  and 
opens  the  paper.) 

MRS.  QUINN — (Reads — then.)  Nothin'  but 
strike,  strike,  strike,  wherever  ye  look.  A  few  cents 
an  hour  more,  a  few  hours  a  week  less,  what  a  little 
to  fight  for,  and  yet  they  won't  get  it,  they  won't 
get  it. 

(Quinn  enters  door  L.  Hangs  hat  and  coat  on 
rack  near  kitchen  door.  Sits  in  chair  at  side  of 
table,  and  is  noticeably  nervous.) 

QUINN — (After  a  pause,  during  which  they  both 
steal  furtive  glances  at  one  another.)  Well? 

MRS.  QUINN — I  see  yer  home  again.  Anything 
doin'? 

QUINN — Nothin'. 

MRS.  QUINN — ( Tartly.)  Well,  it's  a  fine  husky 
way  for  a  man  to  be  makin'  a  livin'  for  his  wife, 
throwin'  up  his  good  job  as  a  motorman,  and 
walkin'  the  streets. 

QUINN — (Moodily.)      Good  job, — hell! 

MRS.  QUINN — I  don't  see  what  way  ye'll  pay  for 
shoe  leather,  if  ye  don't  get  some  money  soon. 

QUINN — We'll  live.  The  Union  won't  see  us 
go  under  for  the  lack  of  a  dollar  or  two. 

MRS.  QUINN — I  don't  like  livin'  on  the  Union. 

QUINN — We  ain't  beggars  yet. 

MRS.  QUINN — We're  not  far  from  it,  Gawd 
knows. 


THE  STRIKER  87 

(Picks  up  paper,  and  again  reads.     A  pause.) 
QUINN — (Irritably.)     Can't  ye  stop  rattlin'  that 


paper 


(Mrs.  Quinn  glances  at  him  casually,  and  calmly 
proceeds  with  her  reading.  It  is  the  sort  of  calm 
that  arouses  temper  in  a  jumpy  person.) 

QUINN — (Springing  up.)  Stop  that  infernal 
noise!  Seems  like  a  man  might  have  peace  in  his 
own  house.  Here  I  am  walkin'  the  streets  all  day, 
with  me  legs  and  head  that  tired  I'm  ready  to  drop, 
and  when  I  get  home  at  night,  a  clatter  that  would 
wake  the  dead,  in  me  ears. 

MRS.  QUINN — Yer  blood  may  be  Irish,  John 
Quinn,  but  yer  nerves  are  American.  ...  I 
never  saw  such  a  changed  man  in  me  life.  It's  bad 
enough  to  have  ye  walk  out  on  strike — 

QUINN — Now  see  here,  I  didn't  walk  out  on 
strike,  and  ye  know  it.  I'd  be  workin'  yet  if  the 
Union  hadn't  told  us  to  lay  off  until  we  got  our 
rights. 

MRS.  QUINN — Ye'll  rot  before  ye  get  yer  rights, 
I'm  thinkin'. 

QUINN — Maybe,  maybe  so. 

(Silence  again.) 

MRS.  QUINN — (Putting  down  paper.)  I  see 
the  walking  delegate  discussed  the  strike  at  an  ele 
gant  banquet  at  the  Hotel  Hoffman  last  night.  Ye 
know,  he  don't  seem  to  suffer  no  privation.  Mrs. 
Martin  says  he  gets  a  princely  wage  for  orderin' 
strikes  all  over  the  country.  No  wonder  he's  in 
earnest  about  his  job. 

QUINN — Some  one  has  to  lead  the  men. 

MRS.  QUINN — I  fancy  he  wouldn't  lead  far,  if 


88  THE  STRIKER 

his  wage  stopped. 

QUINN — (Shortly.)     Aw,  don't  be  a  fool. 

(Silence  again.  Quinn  moves  uneasily  in  his 
chair. ) 

MRS.  QUINN — What's  on  yer  mind?  Can't  ye 
sit  still? 

QUINN — What  should  be  on  me  mind? 

MRS.  QUINN — I  haven't  lived  with  ye  five  and 
twenty  years  without  knowin'  when  ye've  done 
somethin'  ye' re  ashamed  of. 

QUINN — I've  done  nothin'  I'm  ashamed  of. 

MRS.  QUINN — Out  with  it. 

QUINN — (After  a  slight  hesitation.)  I  walked 
down  town  to-night  to  see  the  sights.  Bill  Martin 
went  with  me. 

MRS.  QUINN — (Content  to  get  her  knowledge 
by  Quinn 's  roundabout  way  of  telling  it.)  Were 
the  streets  crowded? 

QUINN — Nothin'  like  they  are  up  here.  .  .  . 
D'ye  know  they  have  the  State  Constabulary  on  the 
Avenue  now? 

MRS.  QUINN — I  saw  them  this  mornin'.  Big 
hulkin'  brutes  they  are,  chargin'  into  groups  of 
women  and  children  like  as  if  they  were  offenders 
agin  the  law. 

QUINN — It's  makin'  the  men  see  red. 

MRS.  QUINN — If  the  men  are  wise,  they'll  give 
them  a  wide  berth,  and  not  start  any  ructions,  or 
they'll  get  smashed  heads  for  their  pains. 

QUINN — Well,  we  can  smash  heads,  too. 

MRS.  QUINN — And  be  put  in  the  lock-up  for  it. 

QUINN — Am  I  in  the  lock-up? 

MRS.   QUINN — (Quickly.)      Whose  head   have 


THE  STRIKER  89 

you  smashed  John? 

QUINN — To-night  while  we  stood  at  the  corner 
of  Fourth  and  Marion,  a  trolley  came  along  with 
passengers  in  it,  a  woman  and  two  men. 

MRS.  QUINN — John,  ye  didn't — 

QUINN — The  dirty  scab  who  ran  the  car  must 
have  come  from  New  York  with  that  last  bunch  of 
strike  breakers. 

MRS.  QUINN — What  did  ye  do? 

QUINN — (Defiantly.)  I  picked  up  a  brick,  and 
let  it  fly  through  the  window.  Maybe  the  company 
can  starve  us,  but  we'll  teach  the  public  it's  a  damned 
unsafe  thing  to  ride  in  the  cars,  while  we're  bein' 
starved. 

MRS.  QUINN — Did  ye  do  any  hurt? 

QUINN — Well,  I  guess  I  damaged  the  woman's 
arm,  if  ye  want  to  know.  She  let  out  a  yell  ye  could 
hear  a  mile,  and  flopped  over.  Then  I  took  to  me 
heels. 

MRS.  QUINN — (In  a  rage.}  Ye  fool,  have  ye 
quite  quit  yer  senses?  Ye'll  be  caught  and  locked 
up  fer  this. 

QUINN — (Glad  that  he  has  gotten  the  story 
out.)  Not  much. 

MRS.  QUINN — Yer  temper'll  do  fer  ye,  one  of 
these  days,  me  man.  I  suppose  that's  what  ye  call 
seein'  red?  Seein'  red!  Gawd'll  get  ye  by  the 
scruff  of  the  neck  when  yer  not  lookin',  and  shake 
the  ugly  devil  of  a  temper  out  of  ye.  Ye'll  face  the 
consequence  for  it,  sooner  or  later. 

QUINN — Aw,  stop  yer  blather,  and  get  me  a  cup 
of  tea. 

MRS.  QUINN — Tea!    I'm  tempted  to  put  a  pink 


90  THE  STRIKER 

bean  in  it,  and  make  ye  croak  before  the  gallows 
gets  ye,  ye  ruffian. 

(There  is  a  knock  at  the  front  door.  Mrs.  Quinn 
exits  R.  and  returns  with  the  Martins.) 

QUINN — Hello  Martin,  what's  up  now? 

MARTIN — Have  ye  seen  the  papers? 

QUINN — No. 

MARTIN — It's  in  them  already. 

QUINN — What's  in  them? 

MARTIN — Disten,  (reads)  "Just  at  dusk  this 
evening  a  mob  of  strikers  attacked  a  west  bound  car 
at  Fourth  and  Marion  Streets,  and  did  considerable 
damage  to  the  car  and  occupants.  The  only  woman 
passenger  was  seriously  injured  in  the  right  hand 
and  arm,  and  was  taken  to  the  Lester  Hospital, 
where" — 

QUINN — (Interrupting.)  Do  they  know  who 
done  it? 

MARTIN — (Reads.)  "No  clue  to  the  man  has 
been  found,  but  Chief  of  Police" — 

QUINN — (Shortly.)  Aw,  cut  it,  Martin. 
They'll  never  find  the  man  who  did  it,  unless  your 
tongue  wags.  I'd  like  to  break  the  arms  of  ev'ry 
one  who  runs  or  rides  in  the  cars  till  we  win  our 
fight. 

MARTIN — (Somberly.)  Maybe  the  only  way  is 
to  do  a  little  damage,  break  a  few  bones,  show  them 
we've  got  some  spunk  .  .  .  and  yet  it  is  writ 
ten  if  a  man  smite  thee  on  the  right  cheek — 

MRS.  QUINN — I  thought  the  plan  this  time  was 
to  keep  the  confidence  of  the  people? 

QUINN — We've  tried  that  for  seven  weeks,  and 
it's  taken  us  nowheres. 


THE  STRIKER  gi 

MRS.  MARTIN — We've  tried  most  everything  I 
guess,  but  prayer.  Maybe  we'd  do  more  if  we 
prayed  over  it. 

QUINN — (Slowly.)     Do  ye  say  pray  over  it? 

MARTIN — (Diffidently.)  If  we  could  all  get 
together  on  it.  I  know  it's  hard  to  talk  religion  to 
the  boys,  they  all  think  different  about  it.  It  takes 
some  courage  for  a  man  to  come  out  and  say  he's 
a  Christian,  but  I'm  willing  to  do  it.  Think — if  all 
the  men  and  women  and  children  would  pray  for 
a  settlement,  it  would  have  some  weight  with  the 
Lord. 

MRS.  MARTIN — (Eagerly.)  He'd  give  an 
answer,  I  know.  I  heard  a  minister  say  once,  if 
we'd  ask  for  anything  with  all  our  hearts  and  souls 
the  Lord  wouldn't  deny  us. 

MRS  QUINN — What  a  mix-up  we'd  have  then! 

QUINN — Well,  I've  not  much  use  for  prayers 
when  there's  a  fight  on — but  if  ye — 

MRS.  QUINN — Ye  know,  I  had  a  mad  sort  of  a 
dream  tother  night. 

QUINN — (Impatiently.)  Whist  woman,  with 
yer  dreams! 

MRS.  QUINN — (Undeterred.)  I  dreamed  I  was 
after  havin'  a  nice  easy  talk  with  Gawd,  and  he  sez 
to  me,  "Mary  Ann  Quinn,  I  want  ye  to  sit  up  here 
with  me  in  Heaven  on  me  right  hand  side.  For 
sure,"  sez  he,  pleasant  like,  "you've  never  pestered 
me  with  requests  since  ye've  been  a  woman  grown." 
"Well  Gawd,"  sez  I,  "I've  been  that  mortal  busy 
tendin'  to  the  bodily  comforts  of  me  man  John,  and 
me  daughter  Molly,  that  I've  had  me  mind  fair 
occupied,  and  I  apologize  for  not  comin'  to  ye 


92  THE  STRIKER 

oftener."  "Oh,  Mary  Ann,"  sez  he,  "can't  ye  see 
I  like  it?  I'm  fair  sick  of  havin'  to  stand  sponsor 
for  all  the  mistakes  of  me  numberless  Christian 
children.  They  go  along  in  their  headstrong  ways 
doin'  the  things  they  want  to  do,  right  or  wrong, 
and  when  they  run  amuck,  they  up  and  come  to  me 
with  prayers  and  supplications,  cryin'  and  pleadin' 
for  help,  when  a  slight  use  of  their  own  wits  and 
decency  and  common  sense  would  have  kept  them 
from  difficulties  in  the  first  place." 

"Oh,  Gawd,"  begins  I,  but  he  smiles  at  me  and 
sez  he,  "get  up  wid  ye  on  me  right  hand  side,  and 
keep  that  grin  on  yer  face  Mary  Ann  Quinn,  while 
I  tend  to  me  regular  customers." 

QUINN — (Shocked.)  I  can't  help  ye  bein' 
heathenish  in  yer  views,  but  I'll  not  have  ye  out 
spoken  voicin'  them. 

MARTIN — (Puzzled.)  It  was  a  very  odd  dream 
to  have. 

MRS.  MARTIN — It  certainly  was. 

MRS.  QUINN — The  meanin'  of  it's  mortal  clear, 
I'm  thinkin'.  But,  that's  not  gettin'  the  tea,  is  it? 

(Exit  to  kitchen  L.) 

QUINN — Martin,  I  don't  know  about  yer  pray 
ers,  but  fer  meself  I'm  in  this  fight  till  the  finish, 
and  man  nor  devil'll  make  me  yield  an  inch 

MARTIN — Then  I'm  with  you,  Quinn.  (To 
Mrs.  Martin,  who  goes  to  him  protestingly.)  No, 
Bessie,  its  no  use.  We  can  pray  after  we've  won. 

(Molly  enters  door  R.  She  is  in  hat  and  coat, 
and  carries  a  muff.) 

MRS.  MARTIN — Molly! 

(Molly  does  not  answer,  but  stands  and  looks 


THE  STRIKER  93 

at  Quinn.) 

MARTIN — ( Taking  Mrs  Martin  by  the  arm, 
and  going  to  door  R.)  I  guess  you'd  rather  be 
alone  with  her. 

(Exeunt  Martins  door  R.) 

MOLLY. — Father. 

(Quinn  rises  and  looks  at  her,  but  does  not 
speak.} 

MOLLY — Father. 

QUINN — (Slowly.)  Two  years  ago  when  you 
married  that  damned  fiddler,  I  told  ye  never  to  come 
here  again. 

MOLLY — Father. 

QUINN — (Sternly.)  I  meant  it  then,  and  I 
mean  it  now.  Get  out! 

MOLLY — Won't  you  let  me  speak  to  you? 

QUINN — There's  nothin'  you  can  say  to  me,  I 
gave  you  yer  choice  of  us  long  ago,  and  ye  stuck  to 
him.  Stick  to  him  now,  I  don't  want  ye. 

MRS.  QUINN — (Enters  door  L  with  tea  things.) 
Molly,  my  dear  little  Molly. 

MOLLY — Mother ! 

MRS.  QUINN — (Ignoring  Quinn.)  Sit  down 
now,  and  I'll  give  ye  a  dish  of  tea. 

QUINN — She'll  not  sit  down  in  this  house. 

MRS.  QUINN — (Easily,  tho  her  heart  is  beating 
rapidly.)  Will  she  not?  Here,  take  off  yer  hat 
and  coat,  and  drink  this  while  it's  hot.  I'll  bring 
another  cup  for  yer  father. 

(Exit  to  kitchen.  Molly  remains  standing,  and 
faces  her  father.  She  makes  no  attempt  to  remove 
her  wraps.) 

MOLLY — Won't  you  let  me  come  back  to  you  and 


94  THE  STRIKER 

mother?     Won't  you  forgive  me? 

QUINN — (Slowly.)  Why  are  ye  so  eager  to  be 
back? 

MOLLY — I  need  you  and  mother,  now  I'm  alone. 

QUINN — (Quickly.)  Alone?  He's  left  ye,  has 
he? 

(Molly  unable  to  answer  for  her  tears,  nods 
head. ) 

QUINN — The  things  I  told  you  about  him  were 
true  then?  He  was  no  fit  man  to  marry  a  decent 
girl! 

MOLLY — Father,  father,  don't  say  that! 

(Mrs.  Quinn  enters.) 

QuiNN — (Working  himself  into  a  rage.}  The 
fine  gentleman  has  left  Molly.  All  his  grand  love 
makin'  to  end  in  two  years,  tho  Gawd  knows  I 
didn't  expect  it  to  last  that  long.  (To  Molly.) 
Why  hadn't  ye  sense  enough  not  to  be  gulled  by 
him  ?  Didn't  I  tell  ye,  he  was  a  rogue  and  a  scoun 
drel  ?  Chucked  aside  for  another  woman,  I  sup 
pose  ye  were !  Left  ye,  left  ye — 

MRS.  QUINN — Ye  blunderin'  idiot,  last  Tuesday 
the  boy  died. 

QUINN — (Helplessly.)  Died?  I — I  thought — 
(to  Molly.)  Sit  down — drink  the  tea  ...  Is 
— is  there  an  egg  for  her? 

MRS.  QUINN — There's  no  eggs  here.  The  hens 
went  on  strike  with  the  trolley  men.  Let  me  help 
you  off  with  yer  coat,  Molly.  What  have  ye 
done  to  yer  arm?  What's  that  bandage  on  yer  arm 
for? 

MOLLY — You  remember,  I  told  you  in  my  last 
letter,  mother — 


THE  STRIKER  95 

QUINN — (Sourly.)  So  ye've  been  writin',  hev 
ye? 

MRS.  QUINN — D'ye  think  a  mother  will  let  her 
only  child  slip  easily  out  of  her  heart  and  life? 

MOLLY — (Pleading.)      Mother,  father! 

QUINN — (With  poor  grace.)      Aw,  well,  let  it 

go- 

MOLLY — (Sitting  at  back  of  table,  Quinn  and 
Mrs.  Quinn  at  either  side.)  When  I  settled  up 
everything,  after — after  his  death,  I  planned  to  go 
back  to  my  old  job.  I  went  to  the  office  and  saw 
Mr.  Bowen,  and  he  said  the  place  was  still  open  for 
me. 

MRS.  QUINN — (Admiringly.)  I  don't  wonder 
he's  glad  to  get  ye  back.  There  ain't  many  stenog 
raphers  clever  as  you  are  Molly. 

QUINN — Be  quiet  mother,  and  let  the  girl  talk. 

MOLLY — I  knew  if  I  could  work,  and  bring  good 
wages  into  the  house,  father  could  afford  to  stay 
out  on  strike  until  the  men  had  won. 

QUINN — Molly! 

MOLLY — I  did  plan  for  that  father,  I  did  plan 
for  that,  and  now — 

MRS.  QUINN — Well,  go  on,  go  on. 

MOLLY — To-night  at  the  Lester  Hospital  when 
they  fixed  my  arm,  the  doctor  said  I  couldn't  use 
it  before  a  month. 

MRS.  QUINN — What  happened  to  it?  How  did 
ye  hurt  it? 

MOLLY — I  did  the  wrong  thing,  and  I  guess  I 
deserve  what  I  got,  but  I  was  dog  tired  and  the 
walk  here  is  endless.  I  took  a  car  at  the  ferry, 
everything  went  all  right  till  we  got  to  Fourth  and 


96  THE  STRIKER 

Marion  Streets — 

QUINN — (Startled.}      Fourth  and  Marion! 

MOLLY — There  was  a  crowd  of  strikers  there, 
and  one  of  them  threw  a  brick  into  the  car,  and  it 
struck  my  arm  at  the  elbow.  Crushed  it  pretty 
badly,  I  guess. 

QUINN — My  Gawd! 

MOLLY — (Misunderstanding  his  emotion.}  I'm 
not  going  to  live  on  you,  father.  I  know  you  and 
mother  are  hard  enough  pushed  as  it  is. 

MRS.  QUINN — What's  ours  is  yours  now.  Ye'll 
stay  here  with  us. 

QUINN — (Dazed.}  I  wonder  can  I  get  a  job 
at  Newton's?  They  needed  men  last  week. 

MOLLY — Father,  he  ...  left  insurance, 
and  we  can  use  that  until  you  start  again,  or  until 
I'm  able  to  go  back  to  the  office. 

QUINN — The  strike's  a  mistake,  I'm  thinkin'. 
I'll  go  to  the  barn  to-morrow  and  take  me  car  out, 
if  the  boys  kill  me  for  it. 

MRS.  QUINN — (Quickly,  and  unconsciously  imi 
tating  Mrs.  Martin's  imitation  of  the  walking  dele 
gate.}  Ye'll  do  no  such  thing.  The  strike's  on  till 
it's  settled.  Yer  fightin'  fer  a  principle,  and  ye'll  not 
give  in  till  ye  win.  This  is  not  a  war  for  us  only, 
but  for  our  children.  They'll  be  saved  a  fight  fer 
their  rights  if  we  conquer  now.  We'll  go  at  the 
company  in  the  way  that  that  walking  delegate  says. 
(As  she  becomes  conscious  she  is  quoting  the  quoted 
delegate.}  The  walking  delegate?  Well,  he's  al 
right,  we'll  do  things  his  way,  and  we'll  win. 

MOLLY — Of  course  we'll  win.  Public  sympathy 
is  with  the  men  this  time. 


THE  STRIKER  97 

QUINN — Well,  it  won't  be  fer  long,  if  the  men 
see  red,  and  go  about  bustin'  up  perfectly  good 
arms  of  innocent  bystanders.  Me  mind's  made  up, 
violence  must  stop. 

MRS.  QUINN — And  mine's  made  up  too,  the 
strike  must  be  won. 

( Quinn  goes  to  wail  rack,  and  takes  down  hat  and 
coat.) 

What  are  ye  doin'  with  yer  coat? 

QUINN — I'll  go  and  have  a  talk  with  the  boys. 
I've  some  power  with  them.  Violence  must  stop. 
I'll  try  to  make  them  listen  to  reason,  and  if  they 
won't,  I  guess  I'm  good  for  a  job  at  Newton's. 

(As  he  leaves  room  he  is  heard  muttering.)  Vio 
lence  must  stop! 

MOLLY — I  never  knew  father  so  set  against  a 
fight.  What's  he  want  to  work  in  a  coal  yard  for? 

MRS.  QUINN — Never  fear,  he  won't  work  in  a 
coal  yard.  Ye  see  Molly  he's  awful  mad  at  the  man 
\vho  smashed  yer  arm.  It  makes  him  wild  to  think 
a  fellow  is  free  to  go  about  harmin'  innocent  people, 
just  because  he  thinks  he  sees  red. 

MOLLY — I  hope  he  never  finds  the  man. 

MRS.  QUINN — D'ye  know,  I  think  he  has  a 
hunch  who  did  it.  Oh,  he  won't  hurt  him !  Fath 
er's  been  gettin'  close  to  some  hard  home  facts  this 
day,  and  a  good  walk  in  the  fresh  night  air  will  help 
him  to  digest  them. 

(As  curtain  descends.)  I'm  so  sorry  about  yer 
poor  arm.  Tell  me,  does  it  hurt  you  much? — etc. 

CURTAIN 


MURDERING  SELINA 


CAST 

KING,  Editor  of  the  Gazette. 

BART,  A  Reporter. 

AN  OFFICER. 

A  BOY. 

A  GENTLEMAN. 

SELINA. 

Miss  BROWN. 

TIME — The  Present. 

PLACE — A   Little  Cafe  in  the  Park,  Managed  by 
Miss  Brown. 


Murdering  Selina 

Scene — Interior  of  a  frame  restaurant  in  the  park. 
At  the  left  side,  running  almost  the  entire  width  of 
the  room,  is  the  -counter  at  which  one  may  buy  soft- 
drinks,  peanuts,  pop-corn,  newspapers,  etc.  A  talk 
ing  machine  and  telephone  are  on  counter.  Against 
the  wall,  at  centre  back,  is  a  screen,  behind  it  is  a 
door  to  another  room.  At  the  right  side,  back,  a 
table  and  couple  of  chairs.  Small  table  and  two 
chairs  near  front  of  stage,  left.  When  curtain  rises, 
Miss  Brown  and  The  Boy  are  discovered.  Miss 
Brown  is  a  red  haired,  good-hearted,  sharp  tongued 
old  maid  of  uncertain  years;  positive  in  her  opin 
ions,  quick  in  bodily  action — giving  one  the  impres 
sion  of  great  nervous  energy.  The  Boy  is  the  typical 
roguish,  rather  fresh,  "newsy"  of  fifteen,  or  there 
about. 

A  fox  trot  is  being  played  on  the  victrola,  and 
The  Boy  is  teaching  the  steps  to  Miss  Brown,  whom 
he  is  pulling  around  with  spirited  good-nature. 

BOY — (In  time  with  music.)  Slow,  slow,  slow, 
slow,  now  fast,  fast,  fast,  fast,  fast,  fas  tie,  fas  tie, 
fast. 

Miss  BROWN — Oh,  wait  until  I  get  me  breath. 

BOY — You  gotta  dance  without  it,  see? 

Miss  BROWN — How  can  I  dance  with  me  wind 
all  gone?  Let  go  of  me  while  I  rest. 

BOY — Aw,  come  on,  and  be  a  sport.  All  the  girls 
is  doin'  the  fox  trot. 

Miss  BROWN — (Pathetically.)  My  heavens,  I 
103 


104  MURDERING  SELINA 

ain't  no  girl. 

BOY — Yer  learnin'  it  fine.  I  bet  if  ye  had  a 
couple  lessons  ye'd  put  it  all  over  that  bunch  at  the 
pavilion. 

Miss  BROWN — (Trying  to  stop.)  Let'  go  of  me, 
will  you? 

BOY — Slow,  slow,  slow, — 

Miss  BROWN — Ye  young  snipe,  can't  ye  see  I'm 
ready  to  drop  ? 

BOY — Aw,  stop  coddlin'  yerself !  Yer  good  for  a 
mile  yet. 

Miss  BROWN — (Pulling  herself  free.}  You  run 
and  get  the  papers.  It's  almost  dark,  and  there 
ain't  one  here  yet. 

BOY — (At  victrola.)     Well,  I'm  goin,'  ain't  I? 

Miss  BROWN — (Out  of  breath.)  Quit  foolin' 
with  that  machine,  and  go  get  yer  papers. 

BOY — I  won't  be  three  minutes,  and  then  we  can 
try  it  again. 

Miss  BROWN — I  think  I've  had  enough.  It 
ain't  no  game  for  an  old  hen. 

(Boy  puts  on  sweater  and  cap.) 

Miss  BROWN — Is  it  four  slow,  and  four  fast? 

BOY — No,  that  ain't  right.  Four  slow,  eight 
fast,  then  two  turnin'  steps.  See?  (Shows  steps, 
then  exits.) 

Miss  BROWN — (Meditatively.)  If  I  get  goin'  I 
suppose  I'll  be  dotty,  like  the  rest.  This  dance 
craze  is  certainly  worse  than  hittin'  up  the  booze. 
They  say  that  Lizzie  Smith,  the  hussy,  roped  that 
poor  misguided  Jones  boy  into  marrying  her  with 
her  dancing,  though  heaven  knows  I  never  saw  noth- 
in'  in  her  grace  or  beauty.  Oh,  for  ten  years  of  my 


MURDERING  SELINA  103 

misspent  youth.  If  I'd  only  learned  the  blamed 
thing  before  I  lost  my  figure!  (Puts  record  on 
machine,  and  dances  hesitatingly,  counting  "one, 
tivo,  three,  four,*'  etc.  Bart,  much  dishevelled 
rushes  into  room.  He  is  well  dressed,  but  mussy 
looking,  as  if  he  had  slept  on  a  park  bench  for  a 
night  or  two,  and  had  not  had  recent  acquaintance 
with  hair  or  clothes  brush.  He  bumps  against  the 
peanuts  on  the  edge  of  the  counter,  and  scatters 
them  all  over  the  floor.} 

Miss  BROWN — Can't  ye  see  where  yer  goin'? 

BART — (Fumbling  in  pocket.}      Here.     Sorry. 

Miss  BROWN — A  dollar!  Ye  never  can  tell  a 
millionaire  by  looks  these  days. 

BART — (Sinking  into  chair.}  Am  I  doomed  to 
blight  everything  I  touch? 

Miss  BROWN — Are  ye  sick,  mister?  Can  I  help 
ye? 

BART — Get  out,  get  out,  let  me  alone,  and  stop 
that  machine! 

Miss  BROWN — (Cornmiseratingly.}  Poor  fel 
low!  (Stops  machine.}  He's  got  the  Willies. 

BART — Don't  talk  to  me,  for  Heaven's  sake;  I 
can't  stand  it! 

Miss  BROWN — (Sarcastically.}  Oh,  I  was  just 
communin'  with  me  other  nuts. 

(She  stoops  to  gather  up  the  peanuts,  but  catches 
a  glimpse  of  Bart's  side  face,  and  sits  on  floor,  look 
ing  at  him  intently.} 

To  think  of  that  profile  bein'  wasted  on  a  man ! 
It's  terrible  the  way  good  looks  is  chucked  around 
where  they  ain't  needed ! 

(Boy  enters  with  an  armful  of  newspapers.    King 


106  MURDERING  SELINA 

is  close  behind  him.  Bart  rushes  to  King,  knocking 
against  the  Boy  as  he  does  so,  and  sending  the  pap 
ers  flying.) 

BOY — Ye  big  stiff,  what  ye  doin'  ? 

BART — King,  I  thought  you'd  never  come! 

BOY — Look  at  me  papers,  will  ye? 

BART — (Impatiently.)     Oh,  shut  up! 

(Boy,  grumbling  and  muttering  to  himself,  helps 
Miss  Brown  pick  up  the  peanuts  and  papers.) 

KING — (With  great  displeasure.)  This  is  a  nice 
out  of  the  way  place  to  bring  a  man  to.  What's 
wrong  with  you  anyway?  Drunk? 

BART — (Grimly.)  I  haven't  been  sober  for  three 
days. 

KING — Don't  boast  about  it. 

BART — Boast,  good  heavens! 

KING — What  do  you  think  a  newspaper  is,  a  day 
nursery?  Here's  Billy  Sunday  in  town,  the  war, 
the  Mexican  situation,  everything  at  boiling  point; 
the  Gazette  short  of  men,  and  you  off  on  a  three 
days'  jag!  I've  a  good  mind  to  fire  you. 

BART — (Miserably.)  I'm  up  against  it,  King, 
don't  rub  it  in.  I  don't  know  which  way  to  turn. 

BOY — (To  Miss  Brown,  as  they  seat  themselves 
behind  counter.)  I  wish  those  ginks  would  clear 
out,  so  we  could  trot  again. 

Miss  BROWN — They'll  beat  it  to  a  free  lunch 
counter  soon. 

(She  gets  the  Boy  to  hold  a  skein  of  worsted, 
which  she  unwinds  and  rolls  into  a  ball.  During 
the  conversation  between  Bart  and  King,  Miss 
Brown  and  the  Boy  now  and  then  glance  at  them 
with  a  show  of  irritation,  Miss  Brown  because  they 


MURDERING  SELINA  107 

are  not  buying  any  of  her  wares,  and  also  because 
she  cannot  hear  enough  of  their  talk  to  make  sense 
of  it.) 

KING — What  have  you  done,  a  second  story  job? 

BART — (With  much  humility,  and  some  pride.) 
I've  broken  a  girl's  heart. 

KING — (Utterly  disgusted.)     Oh,  hell! 

BART — I  tell  you,  I've  broken  a  girl's  heart,  and 
ruined  her  life. 

KING — Rubbish!   Sober  up,  and  go  back  to  work. 

BART — I  can't.  She  has  threatened  to  do  some 
thing  desperate.  There  will  be  a  scandal. 

KING — Forget  it! 

BART — I  wish  I  could,  but  suppose  she  shoots  her 
self,  or  takes  poison? 

KING — That  sounds  pleasant. 

BART — I  didn't  know  she  loved  me,  I  protest  I 
didn't. 

KING — Cut  out  the  heroics. 

BART — She's  mad  about  me,  and  I  didn't  under 
stand  till  too  late. 

KING — (Firmly.)  Too  late!  You  scuttle  back 
to  town,  get  a  license,  and  marry  her. 

BART — I  came  to  the  city  to  earn  money  to  marry 
a  girl  back  home,  and  I'll  marry  her,  or  no  one. 

KING — Winning  a  girl's  love,  and  throwing  her 
over,  is  cheap  sport.  I'm  disappointed  in  you,  Bart. 
I  didn't  know  you  were  that  kind  of  a  chap. 

BART — I'm  not  that  kind.  It's  all  a  horrible 
mistake.  She  misunderstood  my — my  attentions.  I 
was  just  nice  and  friendly  to  her,  and  she,  well 
she— 

KING — That's  right,  put  the  blame  on  her. 


108  MURDERING  SELINA 

BART — (Hotly.)  Well,  I'm  not  going  to  blame 
myself.  If  women  see  fit  to  fall  in  love  with  me, 
it's  not  my  fault. 

KING — You  conceited  pup ! 

BART — I  don't  care.  I've  suffered  enough  these 
last  three  days,  and  I've  just  about  gone  to  pieces. 
It's  not  my  fault,  I  don't  care  what  you  say,  it's 
not  my  fault. 

KING — Every  cad  says  it's  not  his  fault. 

Miss  BROWN — (To  Boy.)  What  in  the  name 
of  common  sense  are  they  gassin'  about? 

BOY — Aw,  they're  holdin'  hands,  I  guess. 

BART — (To  King.)  I  asked  you  here  for  advice, 
not  abuse. 

KING — (Shortly.)  You  have  my  advice,  marry 
her. 

BART — And  I  tell  you  I  won't.  I  don't  love  her, 
and  I  do  love  Lucy. 

KING — Lucy.    The  girl  up  home,  I  suppose? 

BART — Yes. 

KING — What  will  she  think  of  this  mess? 

BART — She  need  never  know  that  Selina  existed. 

KING — (Starting.)    Selina! 

BART — That's  her  name. 

KING — Selina,  what  a  coincidence! 

BART — I  thought  you'd  understand,  and  help  me 
out. 

KING — Tell  me,  I'll  try  to  understand. 

Miss  BROWN — ( To  Boy.)  My  Gawd,  ain't  they 
never  goin'  ? 

BOY — Talk  about  yer  cheap  skates! 

BART — (To  King.)  I've  been  kind  of  lonely 
down  here  in  the  city,  and  she  was  a  regular  oasis  in 


MURDERING  SELINA  109 

the  desert.     I  took  her  to  a  good  many  first  nights, 
and  the  opera  pretty  nearly  every  week,  and  she — 
KING — (Gently  ironical.}     Gazette  passes,  I  pre 


sume 


BART — You  don't  think  I  could  pay  for  them  out 
of  my  salary,  do  you?  I've  not  had  a  cent  from 
father  since  I  left  home.  .  .  .  She  always  gets 
herself  up  well,  and  wears  good-looking  clothes,  and 
I  felt  proud  to  take  her  around.  Besides,  she's  older 
than  I  am,  and  I  thought  I  was  safe. 

KING — I  had  no  idea  you  were  so  irresistible. 

Miss  BROWN — (To  Boy.)  It's  time  to  give 
them  the  acid  test.  (She  turns  a  sign  advertising 
Coca  Cola,  with  its  face  to  the  wall.  On  the  back 
is  printed  in  large  letters,  "This  ain't  no  free  rest 
room.  Buy  something,  or  get  out."  King  turns 
around,  glances  at  the  sign  casually,  then  gives  his 
attention  to  Bart.) 

BOY — Hully  gee!     The  big  boob  can't  read! 

Miss  BROWN — What's  a  poor  girl  to  do  now? 

BART — (To  King.)  Why,  I  never  even  kissed 
her,  although  once  or  twice,  I  think  she  wanted 
me  to. 

KING — With  such  a  platonic  background,  how 
did  you  manage  to  break  her  heart? 

BART — That's  the  queer  part.  Tuesday  night 
after  Tosca,  we  had  a  little  supper  at  her  apart 
ments.  We  were  talking  about  friendship,  and  I 
told  her  what  a  bully  little  pal  she  had  been,  and 
how  I'd  miss  our  good  times  when  I  went  home  and 
married  Lucy. 

KING — You  mentioned  Lucy? 
BART— Why  shouldn't  I  ? 


no  MURDERING  SELINA 

KING — /  should  call  it  a  strategic  error. 

BART — I  suppose  it  was  a  mistake. 

KING — It's  rank  idiocy,  my  boy,  to  tell  one 
woman  you  love  another. 

BART — It  seemed  to  break  her  all  up.  She  de 
clared  I'd  led  her  to  believe  I  was  going  to  marry 
her,  that  she  had  given  her  heart  unreservedly  to 
me — 

KING — (Quickly.}  She  had  "given  her  heart 
unreservedly  to  you?"  Did  she  use  those  words? 

BART — I'm  not  apt  to  forget  them,  especially  as 
she  repeated  everything  half  a  dozen  times.  She 
made  me  feel  as  if  I'd  deserted  her  at  the  altar.  I 
tell  you,  I  never  went  through  such  an  awful  hour 
in  my  life. 

KING — Didn't  you  explain  to  her? 

BART — Explain  to  a  weeping  woman  ?  She  was 
lost  in  an  ocean  of  tears,  I'd  have  had  to  use  a  fog 
horn.  I  got  so  rattled  I  began  to  cry  myself.  Then 
she  flung  herself  in  my  arms,  and  said  if  I  jilted  her 
(jilted  her,  mind  you!)  she'd  blow  her  brains  out. 
And  she'll  do  it,  too,  she'll  do  it.  That's  what  I'm 
afraid  of.  If  Selina  kills  herself  for  love  of  me, 
it's  all  up  with  Lucy;  she'll  never  marry  me. 

KING — Does  anyone  know  of  this  scene  ? 

BART — Her  maid  came  in  while  she  was  sobbing 
in  my  arms.  I  tried  to  shake  her  off,  but  she  clung 
like  a  leech. 

KING — Her  maid,  that's  bad. 

BART — (Moodily.}     I  know  it's  bad. 

KING — Are  you  sure  you  never  made  her  think 
you  loved  her? 

BART — I  protest  on  my  word  of  honor,  I  never 


MURDERING  SELINA  in 

even  hinted  at  love. 

BOY — (To  Miss  Brown,  as  he  yawns  over  news 
paper.)  There's  nothin'  worth  readin'  except  this 
blame  suicide. 

Miss  BROWN — (Looking  up  from  her  news 
paper.)  It  certainly  gets  my  goat  the  way  some 
fool  women  go  dippy  over  men. 

(King  glances  at  Miss  Brown  suddenly,  as  she 
raises  her  voice  during  her  last  remark,  then  turns 
to  Bart.) 

KING — Have  you  seen  the  papers? 

BART — I've  been  afraid  to  look  at  them  for  fear 
of  reading  something  about  her. 

KING — (Turning  to  counter.)  Bring  me  a  Gaz 
ette,  boy.  (Hands  coin.)  No  change.  Go  along. 

BOY — (Impudently.)     The  woods  is  full  of  'em. 

KING — (Looking  at  paper.)  I  guess  you're  in 
for  it,  Bart. 

BART — (In  a  stifled  voice.)     What — what  is  it? 

KING — This  suicide.  I  never  connected  it  with 
you.  The  body  of  an  unknown  woman  was  found 
at  the  Riverton  dam  this  afternoon.  She  was  about 
thirty-eight  years  old,  five  feet  five,  had  light  brown 
hair — does  that  fit  your  Selina? 

BART — I  don't  think  Selina  was  more  than  five 
feet  three  or  four,  and  she  can't  be  thirty.  She  told 
me  herself  she  was  only  twenty-six.  (Puts  out  a 
shaking  hand  for  the  paper.)  Let  me  see. 

KING — (Holding  paper.)  The  newspaper  de 
scription  may  not  be  accurate  Bart,  but  all  her 
underclothing  was  marked  with  initials.  That  is 
the  clue  the  police  are  working  on. 

(Hands  paper  to  Bart,  pointing  out  the  place.) 


ii2  MURDERING  SELINA 

Miss  BROWN — (Reading  her  newspaper.}  Poor 
soft  soul,  it's  certainly  awful. 

BART — (Clutching  his  head.}  Great  heavens! 
She  left  a  note.  "I  did  it  for  love,  he  will  under 
stand.  S.  W."  She's  dead,  she's  dead,  there's  blood 
on  my  hands. 

KING — Pull  yourself  together.  Don't  make  a 
scene  here. 

BART — I've  killed  her  just  as  surely  as  if  I'd 
thrown  her  into  the  water  myself.  I'm  a  murderer, 
that's  what  I  am.  I've  murdered  Selina! 

KING — Sit  down,  and  listen  to  me. 

BART — Murderer,  Selina's  murderer! 

KING — Sit  down !  We  must  work  this  out 
together  quietly. 

BART — (Bitterly.}  Be  quiet  with  a  murder  on 
my  conscience. 

Miss  BROWN — (To  Boy,  folding  up  her  news 
paper.}  Well  I  ain't  seen  the  man,  I'd  kill  myself 
for. 

KING — (  To  Bart.}  I'm  going  to  tell  you  some 
thing  no  one  in  all  the  world  knows  except  me,  and 
a  poor  heart  broken  old  woman  in  New  Hampshire. 

BART — Don't  talk  to  me.     I'm  a  murderer. 

KING — (Whispering.}     So  am  I ! 

BART — (Jumping.}     What! 

KING — That's  what  I  want  to  tell  you  about. 

BART — You  too! 

KING — Eight  years  ago,  I  trifled  with  a  woman, 
just  as  you  have  done.  I  was  more  to  blame  than 
you,  for  I  made  her  think  I  loved  her.  She  loved 
me,  there  was  no  doubt  about  that,  but  I  thought 
she  was  after  my  money,  and  that  of  course,  ended 


MURDERING  SELINA  113 

everything.  I  quarrelled  with  her,  and  went  about 
my  business.  She  left  the  city.  A  month  later  I 
received  a  letter  from  her  mother.  She  told  me  her 
daughter  had  died  in  her  arms  of  a  broken  heart. 
Her  last  words  were,  "I  have  given  my  heart  unre 
servedly  to  him."  My  name  was  the  last  she  ever 
breathed.  And  the  poor  old  lady  was  left  alone  and 
penniless.  I  would  have  gone  to  her  at  once,  but 
she  could  not  bear  the  shock  of  seeing  her  daughter's 
murderer. 

BART — What  a  coincidence! 

KING — It  does  not  end  there,  for  she  was  called 
Selina! 

BART — (Amazed,}     Selina! 

KING — A  tragic  coincidence. 

BART — Both  of  us  murderers! 

KING — Murderers,  yes,  we  have  murdered  our 
Selinas. 

Miss  BROWN — (To  Boy.)  Merciful  heavens, 
they've  killed  someone !  ( Takes  down  telephone, 
ana!  calls.)  Main  674  .  .  .  674  I  said.  Say 
operator,  you  get  me  Main  674  will  ye?  Oh,  stop 
polishing  yer  nails,  you  ain't  no  society  dame.  .  .  . 
Is  this  674?  Send  a  cop  quick  to  Miss  Brown's  restau 
rant.  Someone's  been  murdered,  and  the  men  who 
done  it.  .  .  .  here  in  my  restaurant.  I  ain't 
stringin'  ye.  ...  right  away.  I  don't  like 
bein'  alone  with  them.  (Hangs  receiver  up,  and 
watches  Bart  and  King  closely.) 

BART — (To  King.)     What  did  you  do? 

KING — What  could  I  do?  From  the  day  of  her 
death  until  now,  I've  kept  her  mother.  It's  the  only 
reparation  I  can  make,  and  I  have  done  it  for  eight 


ii4  MURDERING  SELINA 

years. 

BART — (Tragically.}  My  Selina  was  alone  in 
the  world.  With  her  death  I  have  blotted  out  an 
entire  family. 

KING — (Humbly.}  We  possibly  can't  help  being 
handsome  and  fascinating,  Bart. 

BART — But  we  must  learn  to  be  careful  with 
women,  and  not  lead  them  on. 

Miss  BROWN — (To  Boy.}  Now  you  sit  tight, 
and  if  they  come  over  here,  brain  them  with  a  soda 
water  bottle.  .  .  .  (Looks  out  of  doorway.} 

BOY — (Dancing  with  excitement  and  pleasure.} 
Ain't  this  some  picnic! 

KING — (To  Bart.}  I  have  never  dared  look  at 
a  woman  since  then. 

BART — I  can't  imagine  Lucy  killing  herself  for 
me.  She  will  never  love  me  as  Selina  did. 

KING — (Sighing.}     Selina. 

BART — Mine? 

KING — Mine. 

(Enter  a  plain  clothes  Officer,  and  a  Policeman, 
breathlessly.} 

OFFICER — (To  Miss  Brown.}  Now,  which  one 
of  them  done  it? 

Miss  BROWN — It's  that  young  one,  I  think.  You 
could  spot  his  ugly  mug  for  a  crook  anywhere. 

(Officer  goes  up  to  King,  and  turns  him  around 
suddenly,  while  the  Policeman  does  the  same  to 
Bart.} 

KING — What  do  you  want? 

OFFICER — (Slipping  handcuffs  on.}  Come 
alone  peaceful. 

(Policeman  handcuffs  Bart.} 


MURDERING  SELINA  115 

BART — Stop  that!    What  are  you  doing? 

OFFICER — Keepin'  you  safe.  The  lady  just  phon 
ed  to  headquarters  what  you've  been  doin'. 

BART — (Angrily,  to  Miss  Brown.)  I  gave  you 
a  dollar,  what  more  do  you  want? 

OFFICER — Hush  money  won't  go,  boss. 

KING — Take  these  things  off,  or  I'll  brain  you. 

( The  Boy  dances  around  the  stage  in  glee,  getting 
into  everyone's  way.) 

BOY — Keep  the  nippers  on  'em,  Casey,  or  they'll 
muss  up  the  shop! 

OFFICER — I'm  running  no  risks  with  murderers. 

BART  AND  KING — Murderers!  (they  collapse. 
King  drops  his  cane,  and  Miss  Brown  makes  a  dive 
for  it,  and  shakes  it  at  him.) 

Miss  BROWN — I  heard  ye,  ye  bloodthirsty  thug. 

KING — (To  Officer.)  Now  see  here,  don't  be  a 
fool.  I'm  George  King,  editor  of  the  Gazette — 

OFFICER — Can  it,  boss,  everything  you  say  will 
be  used  against  you  at  the  trial. 

BART — (Despairingly.)     It  only  needed  this! 

KING — Is  Lieut.  Mason  in  the  guard  house? 

OFFICER — Maybe  he  is,  maybe  he  ain't.  I  ain't 
sayin'. 

KING — Take  us  to  him  at  once.  He'll  identify 
us.  You  can't  run  men  in  like  this,  on  a  pink  head 
ed  old  maid's  say  so.  Where's  your  warrant  ? 

OFFICER — The  warrant's  comin'.  We  hadn't  time 
to  wait  for  it,  while  you  skinned  out. 

KING — Take  us  to  Lieut.  Mason  at  once. 

OFFICER — Well,  come  along,  and  none  of  your 
funny  tricks,  or  I'll  wing  you. 

(Takes  out  revolver.)     You  too,  Miss  Brown, 


ii6  MURDERING  SELINA 

the  chief'll  want  your  testimony. 

Miss  BROWN — (To  Boy.)  Watch  the  Cafe, 
while  I'm  gone,  and  don't  you  give  nobody  nothin'. 

(Exeunt  Bart,  King,  Miss  Brown,  Officer  and 
Policeman.  Boy  puts  record  on  machine,  and  be 
fore  starting  it,  says,  "Gee,  life's  great!"  then  dances 
to  the  music,  stopping  when  Selina  and  Gentleman, 
in  evening  attire,  appear  at  the  door.) 

GENTLEMAN — It's  too  bad  the  tire's  punctured. 

SELINA — (Graciously.)  I  really  don't  mind  it 
in  the  least. 

GENTLEMAN — Really  ? 

SELINA — Really. 

GENTLEMAN — A  car's  such  a  rotten  nuisance. 
Always  something  wrong  with  it;  much  rather  ride 
in  a  hack. 

SELINA — (Coquettishly.)  Even  a  hack  would 
have  no  terrors  with  you,  though  I  confess,  I  prefer 
the  machine. 

GENTLEMAN — We'll  be  late  for  dinner,  too.  It 
will  take  Thompson  half  an  hour  to  put  on  that 
tire. 

SELINA — Then  let's  sit  here,  look  at  the  moon, 
and  talk. 

GENTLEMAN — About  the  moon? 

SELINA — Oh  dear  no, — about  you  and  me. 

GENTLEMAN — About  you,  you're  such  a  ripping 
sort.  Maybe  I  can  get  something  to  drink  while  we 
wait. 

SELINA — Do,  I'm  chilled  to  the  bone. 

GENTLEMAN — Boy,  let  us  have  two  cups  of  fresh 
hot  coffee. 

BOY — You  gotta  wait. 


MURDERING  SELINA  117 

GENTLEMAN — Wait,  why? 

BOY — The  lady's  out.  I  can't  make  cawfee.  I'm 
just  mindin'  the  shop. 

GENTLEMAN — You  get  us  something  to  drink. 

BOY — Aw,  this  is  a  temperance  joint. 

(Grins  impudently  at  the  Gentleman,  who  stares 
at  him  with  great  disdain  for  an  instant,  then  turns 
to  Selina.) 

GENTLEMAN — Botheration !  I  suppose  we  might 
as  well  stay  out  of  the  cold  until  Thompson  is  ready. 

SELINA — There's  a  draft  along  there.  Don't  sit 
too  near  the  wall. 

GENTLEMAN — I'll  fix  the  draft  with  this  screen. 
(Places  screen  across  one  corner  of  room.)  That 
will  keep  that  fresh  kid  from  seeing  us,  too. 

SELINA — Why  don't  you  want  the  boy  to  see? 
What  are  you  going  to  do? 

GENTLEMAN — Well,  for  one  thing,  kiss  you,  if 
I  get  the  chance. 

SELINA — (Severely.)  I  think  you  are  forgetting 
yourself. 

GENTLEMAN — (Confusedly.)  I  beg  your  pardon. 
My  tongue  slipped.  I  wanted  to  ask  you  to,  to — 
I'll  take  a  look  at  Thompson. 

(Exit  Gentleman.  Boy  makes  a  smacking  noise 
with  his  lips.) 

BOY — Um,  honey! 

SELINA — (Behind  screen,  exultingly.)  It'll  be 
easy  enough  to  work  him.  He's  ready  to  drop  into 
my  hand  now,  like  a  ripe  plum.  Lord,  what  fools 
men  are! 

(Boy  puts  on  record,  and  starts  machine.  Selina 
listens  a  moment,  then  picks  up  her  skirt,  and  does  a 


n8  MURDERING  SELINA 

few  steps  behind  screen.     Bart  and  King  enter.) 

KING — Stop  that  infernal  racket. 

BOY — Big  stiff.     (Does  not  stop  machine.) 

KING — Where's  my  cane? 

BOY — You  gotta  wait  till  Miss  Brown  comes 
back. 

KING — You  get  my  cane. 

BOY — (Picking  cane  up  from  counter,  and  hiding 
it  behind  him.)  I  don't  know  where  she  put  it. 
You  gotta  wait,  see? 

KING — (To  Bart.)  I'd  like  to  jump  that  cop. 
Nice  fix  for  us  if  Mason  hadn't  been  there. 

BOY — (Stopping  machine.)  Say,  didn't  you  do 
it?  What  did  they  let  you  come  back  for? 

KING — Of  course  we  didn't  do  it. 

BART — (To  King.)  And  yet  we  are  guilty  of 
murder. 

KING — Luckily  for  us,  the  law  won't  see  it  that 
way.  .  .  .  I'll  double  my  allowance  to  her 
mother. 

BART — And  I'll  put  flowers  every  week  on  my 
Selina's  grave. 

KING — We  are  bound  together  by  ties  of  death. 
We  must  be  brave,  and  face  the  world  serenely. 

BART — (Clasping  King's  hand.)  And  no  one 
must  know. 

SELINA — (Peeping  around  screen.)  George 
King  and  Bart!  My  gosh,  what  a  pickle!  (She 
hurriedly  enters  the  little  room  back  of  the  screen. 
Bart  and  King  just  catch  a  glimpse  of  her  as  she 
disappears. ) 

KING— Sh! 

BART — Great  heavens,  an  apparition! 


MURDERING  SELINA  119 

KING — She  has  come  to  haunt  me. 

BART — I  shall  throw  myself  at  her  ghostly  feet, 
and  crave  pardon. 

BART  AND  KING — {With  outstretched  hands.) 
Selina! 

KING — (Tragically.)  That  was  the  spirit  of 
the  Selina  whom  my  coldness  killed. 

BART — It  was  the  spirit  of  my  Selina,  who 
drowned  herself  for  love  of  me. 

KING — How  terrible  is  the  vengeance  of  heaven ! 
It  makes  the  one  woman  haunt  us  both. 

BART — I  shall  go  mad  now. 

KING — Bart,  I  feel  my  reason  tottering. 

(They  sit  at  little  table,  heads  on  hands,  backs 
to  the  entrance  door.  Gentleman  enters,  and  goes 
behind  screen.) 

GENTLEMAN — It  will  take  about  ten  minutes 
more — hello,  where  have  you  gone? 

SELINA — (Peeping  from  room  off  stage.)     Sh! 

GENTLEMAN — Why,  what's  the  mystery? 

SELINA — Did  you  see  two  men  in  there,  as  you 


came  in 


GENTLEMAN — Didn't  notice,  but  I'll  take  a  look. 

(Bart  and  King  hide  behind  counter  when 
Gentleman  appears.) 

GENTLEMAN — Not  a  soul  but  the  boy.  (Re- 
turns  to  Selina,  who  comes  into  the  room,  but 
remains  behind  screen.  Bart  and  King  stay  behind 
counter,  but  listen  intently  to  Selina  and  Gentle 
man.) 

KING — Something  queer  about  this. 

SELINA — (To  Gentleman.)     Flatterer! 

GENTLEMAN — I  remember  the  first  time  I  saw 


120  MURDERING  SELINA 

you  at  the  opera.  By  the  way,  who's  that  chap  you 
always  go  with? 

SELINA — (Lightly.)     Oh,  that! 

BART — Her  voice! 

GENTLEMAN — He  interests  me.  Seems  very 
sweet  on  you. 

SELINA — Think  so? 

GENTLEMAN — I  have  eyes. 

SELINA — He's  just  a  boy. 

GENTLEMAN — It's  these  young  cubs  who  always 
run  off  with  the  prizes.  Are  you  in  love  with  him? 

SELINA — I  do  not  think  you  have  any  right  to 
question  me. 

GENTLEMAN — I  beg  your  pardon  for  seeming 
impertinent.  I  merely  ask,  so  I  may  know  where  I 
stand. 

SELINA — Do  you  think  he  is  the  type  of  man  I 
could  love?  Frankly,  he  bores  me  to  death. 

BART — Great  fish! 

GENTLEMAN — I  don't  think  you  bore  him. 

SELINA — (Sadly.)      Poor  boy! 

GENTLEMAN — He's  gone  on  you,  isn't  he? 

SELINA — (Pleadingly.)  Please  don't  think  me  a 
heartless  coquette.  He's  alone  here  in  the  city.  I 
was  just  nice  and  friendly  to  him,  and  the  poor 
fellow's  fallen  desperately  in  love  with  me. 

GENTLEMAN — (Gallantly.)     I  don't  blame  him. 

SELINA — That's  quite  sweet  of  you,  but  it's  made 
me  very  unhappy.  He  was  engaged  to  a  girl  up  the 
state,  and  I'm  afraid  she  will  blame  me.  Women 
are  so  cruel  in  their  judgments. 

GENTLEMAN — (Soothingly.)  Well  if  you  don't 
love  him — 


MURDERING  SELINA  121 

SELINA — How  can  I  ?  Yet  I'm  worried  sick,  for 
he  has  threatened  to  kill  himself  if  I  don't  marry 
him. 

BART — (Springing  up  hysterically.)     Liar! 

KING — (With  deep  conviction.)     She's  no  ghost. 

SELINA — (To  Gentleman.)  Do  you  wonder  I 
am  unhappy? 

GENTLEMAN — You  certainly  couldn't  throw 
yourself  away  on  a  young  puppy  like  him. 

BART — (Clenching  fists.)     Oh! 

KING — Sit  down! 

SELINA — He  hasn't  been  at  his  office  since  I 
refused  him.  I'm  afraid  he's  done  something  des 
perate. 

GENTLEMAN — Don't  worry  about  him.  What 
you  want  is  a  man  with  position  and  wealth.  Now, 
if  /  should  say  I  loved  you,  and  wanted  to  marry 
you? 

SELINA — (Quietly.)      But  you  have  not. 

GENTLEMAN — (With  an  embarrassed  laugh.) 
I'm  trying  to  hard  enough. 

SELINA — Shall  I  say,  "this  is  so  sudden?" 

GENTLEMAN — Heavens,  no,  not  that  stuff!  Say 
"yes." 

SELINA — But  I'm  not  used  to  this  sort  of  pro 
posal. 

GENTLEMAN — I  don't  mind  being  romantic,  I'll 
get  down  on  my  knees,  if  you  like. 

SELINA — Don't  don't,   the  floor's  dirty. 

GENTLEMAN — Well  then,  say  "yes." 

SELINA — But  you've  known  me  scarcely  two 
weeks. 

GENTLEMAN — And   loved  you  the  first  time  I 


122  MURDERING  SELINA 

saw  you. 

SELINA — I  wish  I'd  known  it. 

BART — (Heartily.)     So  do  I. 

GENTLEMAN — I'm  telling  you  now,  isn't  that 
enough  ? 

SELINA — I've  no  family,  no  money  save  a  small 
allowance  from  my  mother's  estate.  I'm  really  a 
very  poor  girl. 

GENTLEMAN — Don't  worry  about  that,  I've 
money  enough  for  two. 

SELINA — The  little  income  I  get  barely  keeps 
me,  but  I've  managed  to  live  on  it  for  eight  years. 

KING — (Grimly.)  You've  got  your  last  check 
from  me,  mother  dear! 

GENTLEMAN — Poor  little  woman,  what  a  strug 
gle  you  must  have  had  to  keep  up  appearances. 
(Horn  blows  outside.)  Come,  there's  Thompson. 
We  can  announce  our  engagement  at  the  dinner. 

(The  Gentleman  helps  Selina  into  her  wraps, 
while  Bart  and  King  again  hide  behind  counter. 
Miss  Brown  enters.  She  is  in  a  fine  rage.) 

Miss  BROWN — The  way  law's  handed  out  in  this 
town's  a  crime,  a  howlin'  crime! 

BOY — What's  eatin'  ye  now? 

Miss  BROWN — Lieut.  Mason  let  them  murderers 
off.  He's  a  fool,  that's  what  he  is,  a  soft  pie-eyed 
fool! 

BOY — Aw,  forget  it! 

Miss  BROWN — Don't  tell  me  to  forget  it,  or  I'll 
slap  your  face  for  ye,  ye  rat. 

(Chases  Boy  behind  counter t  and  bumps  into 
King.)  Holy  cats! 

KING — (In    a    whisper    of    suppressed    rage.) 


MURDERING  SELINA  123 

Woman,  give  me  my  cane. 

Miss  BROWN — (Goes  to  door  and  shrieks.) 
Police,  police! 

(Selina  and  Gentleman  are  about  to  leave,  but 
Selina  pulls  Gentleman  behind  screen  again.) 

SELINA — (To  Gentleman.)     Come  back! 

BART — What's  she  going  to  do  now? 

BOY — Better  leave  her  be,  she's  got  her  dander 
up. 

(Enter  Officer.) 

OFFICER — What  do  ye  want  now,  Miss  Brown? 

Miss  BROWN — Call  'em  innocent,  if  you  like, 
but  I  got  a  hunch  they're  crooks,  and  I  want  you  to 
clear  them  out  of  my  cafe,  see? 

OFFICER — You  got  me  in  wrong  once.  I  ain't 
hun tin'  trouble. 

SELINA — (To  Gentleman,  who  urges  her  for 
ward.)  No,  no,  stay  here  till  they  go. 

KING — I  came  back  for  my  cane,  and  I'm  not 
going  to  leave  without  it. 

(Horn  blows  again.) 

GENTLEMAN — Hang  it  all,  we'll  be  dreadfully 
late. 

SELINA — (In  an  ecstasy  of  fear.)  No,  no,  stay 
here  till  they  go.  (Leans  against  screen,  which 
shakes,  and  almost  falls  over.) 

Miss  BROWN — What's  back  of  that  screen?  I 
saw  it  move! 

(Goes  toward  screen.  Bart  and  King  make  a 
bolt  for  the  door,  and  Officer  stops  them.) 

Miss  BROWN — (Discovering  Selina  and  Gentle 
man.)  Pipe  these  two  dolls,  will  ye? 

(Selina  draws  scarf  over  face,  and  hurries  toward 


124  MURDERING  SELINA 

door.) 

OFFICER — (Detaining  her.)  Not  so  fast  please, 
I  want  to  see  you  first. 

GENTLEMAN — We're  all  right  officer,  just  wait 
ing  here  out  of  the  cold,  while  my  car  was  being — 

OFFICER — (With  easy  familiarity  to  Selina.) 
Hello  kid,  where  did  you  hook  the  gown? 

GENTLEMAN — Officer ! 

OFFICER — Easy,  boy,  easy. 

SELINA — Let  me  pass,  you  have  no  right  to  detain 
me. 

GENTLEMAN — This  is  an  outrage.  I'll  report 
you. 

OFFICER — (To  Selina.)  Some  style  to  you  now, 
kid.  Who  you  workin'?  Must  have  money  to  rig 
you  out  like  that! 

SELINA — Let  me  pass,  I  tell  you,  let  me  pass! 

OFFICER — You're  a  wonder,  Lena.  You're  own 
mother  wouldn't  know  you. 

BART — My  gosh! 

GENTLEMAN — How  dare  you  insult  this  lady? 

OFFICER — Say,  what  are  you  buttin'  in  for? 
Who  are  you  anyway  ?  What's  it  matter  to  you  ? 

GENTLEMAN — Everything.  I'll  not  let  you  bull 
doze  a  lady  who's  going  to  be  my  wife. 

OFFICER — She's  not  going  to  be  your  wife  while 
I'm  alive,  Clarence. 

GENTLEMAN — What  do  you  mean? 

OFFICER — I  don't  believe  in  divorce,  and — 

SELINA — (In  suppressed  rage.)  Keep  quiet,  will 
you! 

OFFICER — (Coolly.)  And  she  happens  to  be  my 
wife. 


MURDERING  SELINA  125 

( General  consternation. ) 

GENTLEMAN — Good  heavens! 

BART — Great  fish! 

KING — I'll  be  darned! 

Miss  BROWN — They're  all  dotty.  The  whole 
fool  ranch  is  dotty. 

GENTLEMAN — (Tensely,  to  Selina.}  Is  this 
true,  tell  me,  is  this  true? 

SELINA — (Shrugging  shoulders.)  Oh,  what's  the 
use! 

OFFICER — Sure,  it  ain't  any  use,  Lena,  but  if 
you're  havin'  a  good  time,  go  to  it.  Gawd  knows  I 
don't  want  any  more  of  ye. 

(Horn  blows  again.} 

GENTLEMAN — I  must  be  going. 

SELINA — Would  you  mind  dropping  me  at  my 
apartments  ? 

GENTLEMAN — (Coldly.}  Certainly  not,  if  you 
wish. 

Exeunt  Selina  and  Gentleman.  Bart,  King  and 
Officer  bow  to  her  with  mock  courtesy  as  she  passes 
them.} 

OFFICER — She's  got  her  nerve,  all  right.  Knew 
I  picked  a  pippin'  when  I  married  her.  She'll  cook 
up  some  story  to  hoodwink  him  before  they  get  to 
her  apartments.  (Stands  in  doorway,  medita 
tively.} 

KING — Died  in  her  mother's  arms!  And  I've 
been  keeping  the  fictitious  old  lady  eight  years. 

BART — I'll  put  no  flowers  on  her  grave,  the  siren. 

KING — She  worked  us  all  very  nicely,  didn't  she? 

BART — (Suddenly.}  King,  our  hands  are  blood 
less.  We  have  not  murdered  Selina! 


126  MURDERING  SELINA 

(King  and  Bart  fall  into  one  another's  arms, 
overcome  with  emotion.  Miss  Brown  watches  them 
a  moment  in  supreme  disgust.} 

Miss  BROWN — (To  Boy.}  Put  on  a  fox  trot, 
Jimmie,  maybe  it'll  bring  them  to,  the  poor  prunes! 

(Boy  puts  on  record.} 

(CURTAIN) 


NOTES 

THE  HAND  OF  THE  PROPHET  was  written  Feb 
ruary,  1913.  If  was  first  performed  March  8, 

1913,  at   Artsman's    Hall,    Rose  Valley,    Pennsyl 
vania. 

The  three  songs  used  are  from  "A  LOVER  IN 
DAMASCUS/'  words  by  Charles  Hanson  Towne, 
music  by  Amy  Woodforde-Finden.  In  the  order  of 
their  singing  in  the  play,  they  are  "Far  Across  the 
Desert  Sands,"  "How  Many  a  Lonely  Caravan," 
and  "If  in  the  Great  Bazaars."  The  songs  are  pub 
lished  by  Boosey  &  Co. 

The  first  dance  is  from  Saint  Saens'  "Samson  and 
Delilah."  Melody  is  included  in  this  volume. 
The  second  dance  is  the  "Dance  Arabe"  from 
Tchaikovski's  Casse- Noisette  (Nut-cracker)  Suite. 
The  melody  of  the  third  dance  is  included  in  this 
volume. 

CHILDREN   OF   GRANADA   was  written    March, 

1914.  It   was   first   performed    May   2,    1914,   at 
Artsman's  Hall,  Rose  Valley,  Pennsylvania. 

Music  of  Muezzin's  Call  to  Prayer  included  in 
this  volume. 

THE  TURTLE  DOVE  was  written  February,  1915. 
It  was  first  performed  April  6,  1915,  at  the  MAS 
QUE  OF  PRIMITIVE  PEOPLES,  Horticultural  Hall, 
Philadelphia,  Pennsylvania. 

Music  of  the  Chinese  Song  is  included  in  this 
volume. 

THIS  YOUTH — GENTLEMEN!  was  written  Feb 
ruary,  1909.  It  was  published  in  THE  BUTTERFLY 
QUARTERLY,  Winter  1908-1909. 

THE  STRIKER  was  written  January,  1915.  It 
was  first  performed  March  5,  1915,  at  Artsman's 
127 


Hall,  Rose  Valley,  Pennsylvania. 

MURDERING  SELINA  was  written  January,  1915. 
It  was  first  performed  March  5,  1915,  at  Artsman's 
Hall,  Rose  Valley,  Pennsylvania. 


Children  of  Granada. 


Salah  la    Al....lah    ou       Mcx-.ham...-ined.    ras soul  Al 


rf    g  J      MUEZZIN'S  CALL  TO 


The  Hand  of  the  Prophet 

FIRST  DANCE  > 


>  xj^  -^^^^"  — — .  >^~~- 


CHINESE  MELOC 


The  Turtle  Dove 


m 


Borlo       undqy  Bor  lo      un  doy  chm  lo        chin 

Bor     lo      un  doy. 

128 


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